'he 


Vindication 


CREIGHTON 


FREDERICK  FOX 


The  Vindication  of 
Robert  Creighton 


"Creighton  believed  that  every  man  must  have  three  things- 
religion,  a  job  and  a  hobby." 


The  Vindication  of 
Robert  Creighton 

A  Tale  of  the  Southwest 


By 
DANIEL  FREDERICK  FOX 


NEW  YORK  CHICAGO 

Fleming     H.      Revell      Company 
LONDON  AND  EDINBURGH 


Copyright,  1921,  by 
FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


New  York:  158  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago :  1 7  North  Wabash  Ave. 
London.  21  Paternoster  Square 
Edinburgh :  75  Princes  Street 


To 

MY  SILENT  PARTNER 
this  volume  is  dedicated 


213E570   ' 


Contents 

I.  QUINN'S  GOLDEN  TEXT       ...        9 

II.  HITTING  THE  TRAIL  ....      20 

III.  COMING  BACK 29 

IV.  A  THOROUGHBRED     ....       37 

V.  THE  NORMAN 53 

VI.  A  MILLION-DOLLAR  PROJECT    .        .      63 

VII.  WHAT  DREAMS  ARE  MADE  OF    .         •      74 

VIII.  THE  WEALTH  OF  THE  HILLS      .        .      83 

IX.  FOLLOWING  THE  GLEAM      ...      94 

X.  RAINBOWS  ON  PARADE        .        .        .108 

XI.  THE  ENCHANTED  ISLAND    .        .        .126 

XII.  A  CAMP' FORUM        .        .        .        .137 

XIII.  A  MASTERPIECE        ....     160 

XIV.  FORCES  THAT  WIN     .        .        .        .171 

XV.  THE  LOST  LIBRARY    .        .        .        .195 

XVI.  BETH  AND  JEAN          ....     214 

XVII.  TWILIGHT  AND  EVENING  BELL    .        .    226 

XVIII.  MISSION  INN 235 

XIX.  THE  RANGER'S  CABIN         .        .        .    246 

XX.  THE  VINDICATION      .        .        .        .258 


QUINN'S  GOLDEN  TEXT 

HIS  full  name  was  John  Quincy  McQuade. 
To  this  there  had  recently  been  added 
the   letters    "  M.  D."     To    all    of    his 
friends   he   was   known    as    "  Quinn."     By   the 
facetious  among  these  he  was  sometimes  referred 
to,    because    of  his  genius  in  languages  and  his 
hobby  for  linguistics,  as  "  The  Professor."     Even 
among  strangers  he  was  spoken  of  as  "  Quinn," 
"  Mr.  Quinn  "  or  "  Dr.  Quinn."     The  reader  will 
remember  him  as  "  Quinn." 

He  was  a  man  of  frank,  striking  appearance, 
dark  complexion,  and  brilliant  eyes. 

Quinn  loved  two  things — the  mountains  and 
children.  He  loved  the  mountains  because  they 
had  given  him  health  and  a  vision.  He  could  have 
loved  no  living  thing  more  tenderly  than  he  loved 
the  mountains.  His  golden  text  seven  days  in  the 
week  was,  "  I  will  lift  mine  eyes  unto  the  hills." 

And  he  loved  children.  He  loved  them  because 
they  were  natural  and  told  the  truth.  ''If  they 
are  your  friends,"  he  said,  "  they  like  you  for  your 
own  sake  and  not  for  anything  they  can  get  out  of 
you ;  children  know  their  friends  by  instinct." 

9 


10  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEBT  CEEIGHTON 

In  all  of  his  rambles,  Quinn  was  accompanied 
by  a  fine  collie  that  answered  to  the  name  of 
"  Scotty."  The  two  were  familiar  figures  on  the 
mountain  trails  that  zigzagged  up  from  the  Arroyo 
and  over  the  crest  to  Barley  Flats.  Sometimes 
they  even  crossed  the  further  range  and  came  out 
into  Antelope  Valley  on  the  edge  of  the  Mojave 
Desert. 

On  a  sunny  day  in  early  July,  coming  up  the 
trail  on  their  return  from  a  trip  to  the  city,  Quinn 
and  his  dog,  whose  chief  duty  seemed  to  be  to 
carry  in  his  mouth  his  master's  copy  of  Theocritus 
or  other  classic,  paused  for  a  noonday  meal  beside 
the  mountain  stream.  As  he  was  gathering  wood 
with  which  to  light  a  fire,  he  lifted  his  eyes  and 
saw,  down  the  Arroyo,  a  man  of  middle  age,  with 
a  peculiar  slouch  in  his  walk,  and  an  unusual  pallor 
in  his  face. 

"  He  sure  is  a  tenderfoot,"  Quinn  said  to  himself. 
"  That  complexion  doesn't  belong  to  this  part  of 
the  world." 

The  man  walked  slowly  as  if  in  search  of  some- 
thing. He  would  take  a  few  steps,  then  stop  and 
look  around.  At  one  time  he  paused  as  if  about  to 
seat  himself  upon  a  rock  close  to  the  edge  of  the 
stream,  but  went  on.  Scotty  had  gone  up  to  him, 
looked  him  over,  and  now  came  bounding  back  to 
his  master  as  if  to  say,  "A  friend  in  trouble." 

"  I'm  all  in,  partner,"  the  stranger  remarked  as 
he  drew  near,  lifting  his  cap  and  wiping  the  sweat 


QUINN'S  GOLDEN  TEXT  11 

from  his  forehead.  "  I  suppose  the  world  looks 
good  to  you,  and  these  birds  are  singing  songs  of 
hope  into  your  ear,  but  to  me  it's  a  wail  of  de- 
spair." 

"  Nothing  wrong  with  the  world,"  Quinn  re- 
plied. "  The  world  has  made  good.  Perhaps  it's 
you." 

"  Partner,  you've  said  it,"  the  stranger  sighed. 
"  I've  tried,  and  tried  honestly  to  make  good,  but 
I  don't  seem  to  be  able  to  come  back." 

"  I  know  that  gone  feeling,"  Quinn  replied,  "  but 
a  square  meal  generally  gives  me  the  lift  I  need. 
No  use  trying  to  decide  weighty  problems  on  an 
empty  stomach.  Come  along,  have  a  seat  on  the 
soft  side  of  this  stone,  and  we'll  talk  it  over  be- 
tween bites." 

As  the  stranger  seated  himself,  Quinn  deftly 
built  a  fire,  and,  having  heated  the  coffee,  offered 
the  stranger  a  steaming  cup.  "  Here,"  he  said, 
"  throw  a  bit  of  this  hot  coffee  into  your  system ; 
it  will  hold  you  together  until  the  food  is  ready." 
In  a  twinkling,  Quinn  cut  a  smooth  branch  from  a 
near-by  elder,  upon  which  he  spitted  several  strips 
of  bacon;  this  he  hung  on  a  couple  of  notched 
twigs  that  were  stuck  into  the  ground  beside  the 
fire.  An  appetizing  odour  soon  pervaded  the  air 
as  the  bacon  sizzled  and  dripped  above  the  glow- 
ing coals,  and  hardly  had  the  stranger  finished  his 
coffee  before  Quinn  was  offering  him  a  piece  of 
bread  with  the  crisp,  brown  bacon  upon  it.  "Any 


12   VINDICATION  OF  EOBEKT  CEEIGHTON 

preference "  he  said,  "  rare  or  well  done,  dark 

or  light  meat  ?  " 

The  muscles  in  the  stranger's  face  began  to  re- 
lax as  Quinn  laughed  heartily,  his  laughter  re- 
sounding through  the  Arroyo  and  the  reechoing 
hills. 

"  Now  tell  me  about  it,  if  you  want  to,"  said 
Quinn,  after  they  had  finished  the  meal,  "  and 
maybe  we  can  pull  together  and  put  something 
across  that  will  be  worth  while." 

"  I  don't  know  why  I  talked  to  you  as  I  did  a 
moment  ago,  but  you're  on  the  square,  all  right," 
responded  the  stranger,  "  and  anyway,  it  can't  be 
worse.  I'm  just  out  of  the  pen." 

"Yes?" 

"  That  accounts  for  the  difference  in  our  com- 
plexions. Yours  is  a  fine  nut-brown,  mine's 
chalky.  You're  entitled  to  yours,  and  I'm  not  say- 
ing but  what  I  am  to  mine.  I'm  not  saying  I 
don't  deserve  it.  But  listen  to  me.  Tell  me,  what 
is  a  man  going  to  do  who  wants  to  make  good  and 
applies  for  a  job,  and  when  they  ask  him  for  ref- 
erences ?  Unless  he  lies,  he  has  got  to  say,  *  I'm 
just  done  serving  time/  I  reckon  you  don't  know 
what  I'm  talking  about.  Have  you  ever  been  up 
against  it  ?  " 

Scotty  sat  before  the  man,  looking  up  into  his 
face,  blinking  his  eyes  knowingly,  and  pounding 
the  ground  with  his  tail. 

Quinn  found  himself  perplexed. 


QUINN'S  GOLDEN  TEXT  13 

"  There  ought  to  be  some  way,"  continued  the 
stranger,  without  waiting  for  a  reply,  "  whereby 
every  man  who  wanted  a  job  could  get  it.  If  there 
were  a  job  for  every  American,  then  every  citizen 
under  the  flag  would  love  it.  Don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"You  have  no  relatives  to  give  you  a  lift?" 
suggested  Quinn.  "  Father,  son, — a  brother,  per- 
haps?" 

"  I  have  a  daughter,"  said  the  stranger.  "  I  had 

a  brother "  He  broke  off,  his  eyes  wet  with 

sudden  feeling.  "  I  had  a  brother,"  he  repeated — 
but  could,  or  would  not  go  on  for  a  minute.  "As 
I  was  saying,"  he  reverted,  "  every  man  in  this 
country  should  have  a  job  for  the  asking.  Look  at 
this.  A  poor  boob  is  sent  up,  found  guilty  on  a 
charge  of  highway  robbery.  He  snatched  a 
woman's  hand-bag  with  a  powder-puff  in  it,  a 
street-car  transfer  and  thirty  cents!  Now,  he 
shouldn't  have  stolen.  But  he  was — well,  never 
mind  how  hard  up  he  was — in  the  eyes  of  the  law, 
he  is  a  criminal.  He  serves  his  time.  What  I 
want  to  know  is,  why  doesn't  the  state  set  aside  a 
percentage  of  the  money  that  that  man  earns,  hold 
it,  and  give  it  to  him  for  a  new  start  after  he  has 
done  his  time? 

"  Or,  here  is  a  man  who  has  stolen  from  honest 
poor  folks  their  hard-earned  savings.  He's  sent 
to  the  pen.  Right.  What  I  want  to  know  is,  why 
doesn't  the  state  make  that  man  work  until  he  re- 
pays every  cent  of  the  money  that  he's  stolen? 


14  VINDICATION  OF  BOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

"  Or,  here  is  a  man  who  is  doing  time  while  his 
wife  and  children  are  made  to  shift  for  them- 
selves. What  I  want  to  know  is,  why  doesn't  the 
state  pay  that  man's  wife  a  percentage  of  the 
money  he  earns?  Why  do  we  make  the  innocent 
suffer  with  the  guilty  ? 

"  Or,  here  is  a  man  who  has  done  time  and  now 
they  find  that  he  was  railroaded  in.  He  is  inno- 
cent. What  I  want  to  know  is,  why  doesn't  the 
state  reimburse  that  man  for  the  wrong  that  has 
been  done  him? 

"  Manifestly,  I  can't  be  all  of  these  men.  I  may 
or  I  may  not  be  any  of  them,  but  I  tell  you  I  know 
some  things,  and  when  I  know  a  thing,  I  know  it 
as  well  as  anybody  knows  anything. 

"  It  seems  as  if  it  would  be  easy  enough  to  find 
work  in  a  city  of  a  quarter  of  a  million,  but  I've 
been  answering  ads  for  weeks,  and  whenever  I  got 
next  to  the  employer,  and  he  asked  for  references, 
it  was  all  off.  I  tried  for  the  position  of  floor- 
walker, clerk,  bookkeeper,  salesman  on  a  commis- 
sion basis,  but  nothing  doing.  I  was  offered  what 
seemed  a  good  thing,  but  it  turned  out  that  they 
wanted  a  spotter;  they  wanted  me  to  ride  on  the 
street-cars  and  spot  the  conductors  to  see  if  any 
of  them  were  knocking  down  the  fares.  But  I 
couldn't  take  a  job  like  that. 

"  It's  a  long  story,  and  here  I  am  with  a  few 
coins  and  an  empty  stomach.  I  know  now  why  so 
many  poor  fellows  find  comfort  in  whiskey. 


QUINN'S  GOLDEN  TEXT  15 

Think  of  the  tired,  weak,  miserable  company  that 
line  the  park  benches!  When  a  thing  has  hap- 
pened to  you,  you  know  what  it's  like." 

The  stranger  was  silent  for  a  moment,  then  sud- 
denly straightening  himself,  and  gazing  earnestly 
into  the  face  of  his  new-found  friend,  he  con- 
tinued, "  Do  you  know  why  seventy-five  per  cent, 
of  the  men  who  have  done  time  go  back?  They 
think  the  world's  dead  against  them.  They  are 
desperate  because  the  odds  are  against  them.  Is  it 
any  wonder  there  is  murder  in  their  hearts?  I 
don't  care  if  it  is  their  own  fault.  Most  of  them 
are  not  bad ;  they  are  weak. 

"  It's  discouraging  to  think  that  we  can't  make 
use  of  our  common  experiences  and  somehow  get 
together  in  team  work  for  the  good  of  all,  and 
especially  for  the  good  of  those  who  are  coming 
after  us.  I'm  up  against  it,  I  tell  you,"  the  man 
concluded.  "  I  don't  care  how  far  down  the  line  I 
must  begin,  if  there  is  a  chance  to  come  back;  but  I 
have  tried,  and  as  things  stand  now,  I  can't  cash  in 
my  prospects  at  two  cents  on  the  dollar.  I  have 
no  to-morrow." 

It  is  a  trait  of  human  nature  that  when  we  find 
out  a  man  is  a  criminal,  we  are  interested — all  of 
us.  We  want  to  know  how  it  feels  to  be  a  crim- 
inal. When,  however,  we  find  in  how  many  ways 
he  is  just  like  ourselves,  our  interest  suddenly 
ceases  and  we  quit  the  trail. 

"  Water  seeks  its  level,"  Quinn  was  saying  to 


16    VINDICATION  OF  EOBERT  CEEIGHTON 

himself  as  he  listened  to  the  stranger.  Then  he 
thought  of  his  golden  text,  and  it  occurred  to  him 
that  this  was  precisely  what  the  man  before  him 
was  doing,  looking  "  unto  the  hills."  No  man 
could  talk  like  this  without  having  had  a  world  of 
experience.  And  the  man  had  evidently  thought  to 
some  purpose ;  he  had  the  marks  of  a  leader. 

"  Couldn't  you  get  anything  to  do  in  your  line 
while  you  were  serving  your  time?"  Quinn  in- 
quired. "  Generally  they  give  a  man  work  in  his 
line  if  they  have  it,  and  he  is  qualified.'* 

"  There  was  nothing  for  me  to  do.  I'm  a  civil 
engineer.  In  my  day,  I  was  a  shark  at  mathe- 
matics. No,  there  was  nothing  in  my  line.  But 
that  wasn't  the  worst  of  it.  It  was  the  spirit  of 
the  place.  To-day,  in  most  people's  thoughts,  pun- 
ishment is  supposed  to  be  remedial  and  disciplinary. 
In  the  human  hell  in  which  I  served  my  time,  it 
was  terrifying.  Thus,  in  addition  to  being  cut 
off  from  everything  that  exercises  a  saving  in- 
fluence in  a  man's  life — the  love  of  wife,  child, 
home,  work,  play,  hope,  ambition — the  very  worst 
that  was  in  us  was  aroused  by  the  treatment  we 
received." 

"  Don't  you  know  anybody  who  could  help  you 
get  back  into  business  life?"  Quinn  refrained 
from  suggesting  relatives  again. 

"Yes,  I  have  acquaintances,  as  all  men  have, 
and  I  also  have  a  few  friends.  By  friends  I  mean 
those  who  know  all  about  you  and  still  believe  in 


QUINN'S  GOLDEN  TEXT  17 

you.  But  I  have  lost  my  friends,  or  rather  I  cov- 
ered my  trail  when  the  trouble  came  so  that  they 
have  lost  me.  I  want  to  spare  them  the  sorrow 
and  humiliation,  and  until  I  am  on  my  feet  again, 
I  will  not  make  my  whereabouts  known."  Then 
pausing  thoughtfully  as  if  weighing  the  conse- 
quences of  what  he  had  said,  the  stranger  con- 
tinued, "  I  had  one  friend,  a  brother.  I  have  tried 
to  find  him,  but  he  evidently  has  adopted  my  own 
tactics,  for  I  can't  get  a  clue  of  him  except  an  ab- 
surd one  that  leads  across  continents  and  seas. 
He  was  the  most  capable,  all-around  man  I  ever 
knew.  He  was  scholarly  and  practical,  with  the 
happiest  combination  of  cultural  and  vocational 
training  I  have  ever  met.  When  I  came  West 
years  ago,  he  remained  in  the  East.  As  a  young 
man,  he  met  a  serious  disappointment.  If  I  could 
find  him,  he  would  understand;  but  he's  some- 
where, and  I'm  here,"  and  the  stranger  waved  his 
hand  as  he  concluded.  "As  for  my  little  girl, 
well — she  is  not  far  off.  I  have  traced  her,  but 
I  don't  want  her  to  find  me.  Down  and  out 
as  I  am,  how  could  I  be  any  sort  of  father  to 
her?" 

Ordinarily  Quinn  was  fertile  in  suggestions,  but 
he  found  himself  confronted  with  a  situation  that 
baffled  him.  Here  was  an  unusual  man.  This 
was  an  extraordinary  situation.  "  I'll  think  of  a 
lot  of  brilliant  things  to  say  to-morrow,  and  by 
next  week  I'll  know  just  what  should  have  been 


18  VITOIOATIOSTOF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

done.  That's  the  way  with  a  one-cylinder  mind 
like  mine,"  he  mused.  Then  he  suddenly  recalled 
the  fact  that  the  stranger  was  a  civil  engineer,  and 
the  range  of  his  interests  widened.  He  knew  that 
work  was  being  projected  in  the  mountains  for 
impounding  the  storm  water,  and  instantly  he  de- 
cided on  a  line  of  action. 

"  I've  had  a  jolt  or  two  myself,  in  my  time,"  he 
said  half  to  himself  and  half  to  the  stranger,  "  but 
I  guess  I've  never  really  been  up  against  it,"  and 
carefully  putting  out  the  fire  and  throwing  his  pack 
over  his  shoulder,  he  turned  to  the  stranger  and 
said: 

"  How  would  you  like  to  take  a  turn  over  the 
mountains  ?  I'm  going  up  the  trail ;  it's  some  hike, 
but  if  you  care  to  come  along,  I  can  introduce  you 
as  a  friend  from  the  East." 

The  man  hesitated  a  moment.  Then  he  ad- 
vanced, and  extending  his  hand,  said,  "  My  name 
is  Robert  Creighton.  Bob  will  do." 

"  My  friends  call  me  Quinn,"  was  the  reply. 

Then  an  odd  light  came  into  the  stranger's 
eyes.  "  Did  you  say  your  name  was  Quinn  ?  "  he 
inquired,  with  suppressed  eagerness. 

"  Yes,"  responded  the  young  physician,  curi- 
ously. 

"  Thank  you.  I  sometimes  need  to  have  a 
name  repeated — to  get  it  by  heart.  And  to  tell 
you  no  lies,  there  are  sometimes  other  better  rea- 
sons— which  may  wait,  until  you  care  to  hear 


QtJINN'S  GOLDEN  TEXT  19 

them,"  he  said,  laughing  for  the  first  time  during 
their  conversation. 

"Whenever  you  like,"  said  Quinn,  smiling. 
But  it  was  to  be  long  before  the  matter  was  re- 
ferred to  again,  Creighton  apparently  forgetting 
it,  and  Quinn  dismissing  it  from  his  thoughts  as 
of  no  consequence. 


HITTING  THE  TRAIU 

FOR  a  long  time  they  walked  in  silence, 
single  file,  Quinn  leading  the  way  and 
setting  the  pace. 

Half  the  time  it  seemed  to  Creighton  they  were 
crossing  the  stream,  the  other  half  doubling  back, 
stepping  on  boulders,  around  which  the  waters 
tumbled  in  splendid  confusion. 

"  How  you  coming?  "  Quinn  exclaimed,  spring- 
ing from  rock  to  rock. 

"  It  makes  me  tingle  from  head  to  foot,"  said 
Creighton,  getting  down  on  his  knees  and,  push- 
ing his  face  into  the  crystal  stream,  he  drank 
deeply. 

"  Beats  all  the  juleps  that  were  ever  mixed," 
said  Quinn.  "  No  brown  paper  taste  next  morn- 
ing." 

"  You've  got  it  doped  out  right,"  returned  the 
other. 

"  Where's  the  dog?  "  cried  the  young  man,  sud- 
denly. "  Queer  how  you  get  to  like  a  dog,  isn't 
it?  Here  he  comes!  Hello,  Scotty,  old  boy! 
Carry  the  book.  He's  my  chief  helper,  Mr. 
Creighton." 

20 


HITTING  THE  TEAIL  21 

The  trail  now  left  the  stream.  It  wound 
around  the  mountain  like  a  lasso.  As  the  air 
grew  thinner,  Creighton  found  it  harder  to  keep 
up  with  Ouinn,  who  was  lengthening  his  stride  and 
going  forward  with  a  steady  swing. 

"  Crooked  path  ?  "  said  Quinn.  "A  ram's  horn's 
as  straight  as  a  sunbeam  compared  to  this  trail,  but 
that's  the  glory  of  it,"  and  they  stopped  a  mo- 
ment to  look  down  into  the  ravine,  noting  where 
the  trail  doubled  back  on  itself. 

It  pleased  Quinn  to  note,  as  time  went  on,  that 
Creighton  was  an  observer.  He  needed  no  look- 
ing after.  And  the  fellow  could  talk!  There 
was  a  singular  interest,  a  quick  response,  an  easy 
brevity,  and  an  almost  startling  directness  in  his 
speech.  He  could  talk — but  he  could  also  keep 
quiet. 

"  City  people  don't  know  much,"  Quinn  used  to 
say.  "  It's  the  man  who  lives  in  the  country  that 
holds  his  tongue  and  thinks!  He  often  has  only 
his  thoughts  for  company." 

"  This  man  is  surely  at  home  in  the  mountains," 
Quinn  mused,  as  Creighton  paused  to  get  a  second 
sight  of  a  shrub.  "  It  may  be  his  first  trip  over 
this  trail,  but  it  is  not  his  first  hike  over  the  hills." 
Scotty  was  near,  barking  eagerly,  and  Creighton 
was  talking  to  him.  Creighton  now  peeled  off  a 
piece  of  bark  from  a  brown  madrona  tree  and 
spoke  of  its  habits.  He  noted  the  rich  foliage  of 
the  bay  trees  and  observed  how  some  of  them 


22  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CREIGHTON 

sprang  out  of  the  ground,  grew  into  the  bodies  of 
other  trees,  and  then  doubled  back  into  themselves 
again.  "  Robbers  of  the  forest,"  he  said,  "  steal- 
ing vitality  from  their  neighbours." 

"  You'll  do,"  said  Quinn  to  himself,  as,  in  an 
elbow  of  the  trail,  he  saw  Creighton  seize  a  hand- 
ful of  the  bay  leaves  from  an  overhanging  tree, 
crush  them  and  smell  their  fragrance. 

After  hours  of  climbing,  they  reached  the  high- 
est point  of  the  range.  There,  Quinn  threw  his 
pack  on  the  ground  and,  looking  across  the  moun- 
tains and  down  into  the  valley,  he  turned  to 
Creighton  and  asked,  "  Did  you  ever  wrap  your- 
self in  a  blanket,  watch  the  stars  come  out,  and 
sleep  all  night  under  the  open  sky?  That's  the 
thing  that  puts  blood  into  your  veins. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  a  sky  like  this  ?  "  continued 
Quinn,  a  good  physician,  but  a  better  poet.  "  Look 
at  that  storm  driven  by  a  pack  of  sunbeams !  See 
that  cloud  winding  itself  around  the  brow  of  that 
peak!  Look  at  those  shadows  crouching  in  the 
ravine !  Watch  that  eagle  on  the  crag !  There  he 
goes,  sailing  down  into  the  valley!  Did  you  ever 
see  a  lark  come  down  across  the  morning  sky  side- 
ways? Look!  All  the  architects  of  all  the  ages 
could  never  unriddle  such  an  array  of  splendours. 
It  makes  a  city  look  like  a  bunch  of  hen  coops." 
Quinn  suddenly  came  to  earth,  and  he  grinned 
sheepishly.  But  the  appreciation  in  Creighton's 
eyes  held  him  up  to  his  high  sincerity. 


HITTING  THE  TBAIL  23 

"  I  tell  you,  man,"  he  resumed,  "  this  is  the  thing 
that  clears  out  a  fellow's  brain.  It  takes  the 
mountains  to  lift  a  man  out  of  the  prate  of  the  low- 
lands. And  all  this  belongs  to  all  of  us — any  of 
us,  with  the  eyes  to  see !  " 

Creighton  looked  at  Quinn  with  curiosity.  He 
had  met  many  men,  but  never  one  like  this,  and  he 
had  no  answer  ready.  After  a  moment,  Quinn 
continued,  "  I  am  not  saying  that  a  man  ought  to 
be  happy  watching  the  grass  grow,  and  milking 
cows.  A  man  can  get  into  Heaven  even  if  he 
hasn't  plowed  corn  with  a  mule  to  see  if  he  can 
keep  his  temper.  Fine  clothes  and  good  food  give 
us  pleasure  and  comfort,  but  what  I  am  aiming  at 
is  the  poor  foundations  our  modern  life  often 
seems  to  rest  on.  A  man  makes  a  fortune  out 
of  a  plug  of  tobacco,  a  stick  of  chewing  gum,  or  a 
porous  plaster,  then  he  struts  around  as  a  lover  of 
art,  a  connoisseur  of  porcelains  and  tapestries. 
He  doesn't  know  anything  about  them;  they  are 
junk  on  which  he  pays  insurance,  but  he  blows  his 
horn  and  the  walls  of  Jericho  fall.  The  horn  is 
lined  with  gold. 

'  The  last  time  I  went  down  the  trail,  I  met  a 
man  who  owns  a  private  gallery.  I  tried  to  point 
out  the  rich  tobacco  colour  in  the  bark  of  the  cedar 
trees.  I  spoke  of  how  it  glows  into  gold  at  noon, 
and  deepens  into  a  rich  wine  at  night,  but  all  it 
made  him  think  of  was  his  pipe !  "  Quinn's  feel- 
ing lifted  his  speech  to  eloquence.  "  I  pointed  out 


the  balsam  trees,  silvering  in  the  moon  over  the 
squaw  grass  that  grows  in  the  open  spaces  between 
the  manzanita,  but  all  to  no  purpose.  He  saw 
nothing.  All  of  this — sky,  stars,  trees,  hills — 
never  quickened  his  pulse.  That  old  dub  owns  a 
gallery  of  masterpieces,  but  when  God  hung  His 
glories  across  the  sky,  he  was  as  blind  as  a  bat." 

In  the  midst  of  this  rhapsody,  Scotty  bounded 
suddenly  into  view,  and  as  they  turned,  they  saw 
a  slender  woman  coming  along  the  trail. 

She  was  dressed  in  khaki,  with  mountain  boots 
and  hat.  Her  cheeks  were  glowing  and  her  eyes 
were  smiling  with  the  inner  vision  that  good  men 
love. 

As  Quinn  saw  her,  he  swung  off  his  cap,  and 
sprang  forward  to  grasp  her  hand.  "I  say, 
Jean,"  he  cried,  "this  makes  the  picture  right. 
This  is  '  Inspiration  Point.' ' 

After  a  moment's  pause,  only  a  moment,  during 
which  Quinn  looked  first  at  one,  then  at  the  other, 
he  said: 

"  Miss  Mundell,  this  is  Mr.  Creighton." 

At  the  mention  of  his  own  name,  Creighton, 
who,  stone-still,  had  been  looking  at  her  from  her 
first  appearance,  started,  glanced  around  as  if  he 
expected  some  other  man  to  come  forward,  but 
instantly  recovering  himself,  lifted  his  cap  and 
pronounced  her  name  with  the  clear  enunciation 
of  educated  speech.  But  in  spite  of  his  evident 
breeding,  he  gazed  long  and  piercingly  into  her 


HITTING  THE  TBATL  25 

face;  then,  suppressing  his  interest,  he  bowed,  and 
resumed  his  cap. 

"Are  there  any  newcomers  at  the  camp?  "  asked 
Quinn. 

"  Oodles  of  them,"  replied  Jean,  "  and  every- 
body is  waiting  for  you.  You're  down  to  enter- 
tain the  children,  and  they  have  been  making  great 
preparations.  Rock  Room  has  been  transformed 
into  a  Moorish  palace.  You  promised  an  enter- 
tainment before  you  went  away.  It's  nominated 
in  the  bond,  and  they  are  going  to  collect  payment 
in  full,"  and  Jean  laughed  heartily. 

Creighton  sensed  the  pleasurable  quality  of  her 
voice;  he  noted  the  refined,  subdued,  yet  hearty 
ring  of  her  laughter;  it  was  all  so  wholesome,  so 
genuine,  so  worth  while! 

The  three  now  started  down  the  trail  that  led  to 
the  camp. 

At  the  turn  in  the  trail,  Creighton  again  saw 
Jean's  face,  and  as  he  looked,  something  within 
him  answered  to  something  without.  In  a  vague 
way  he  understood,  so  he  explained  it  to  himself, 
perhaps  it  was  the  call  of  the  hills,  the  call  of  the 
view,  the  call  of  the  sky,  the  call  of  life ;  all  of  this 
urged  him  to  take  his  part  in  life  again  with  this 
kind  of  man,  this  sort  of  woman.  The  call 
came — and  the  answer. 

"  She  knows,"  he  said  to  himself ;  "  she's  the 
sort  that  knows  whether  a  man  is  worth  looking  at 
or  not."  Then  a  sense  of  despair  smote  him.  He 


26  VINDICATION  OF  ROBERT  CREIGHTON 

stared  into  the  distance.  He  felt  himself  slipping. 
A  picture  of  other  days  swam  into  the  field  of  his 
consciousness.  Sweat  came  out  on  his  forehead. 
His  heart  faltered. 

Quinn  and  Jean  were  now  talking,  and  Creigh- 
ton  heard  something  about  "  sailing,"  and  "  a  mis- 
sion to  the  Orient."  But  though  he  listened  at- 
tentively, he  could  make  nothing  of  what  they  said. 

At  one  time  Jean  trembled,  Creighton  thought, 
as  if  something  had  frightened  her.  He  saw  the 
blood  creep  into  her  temples;  he  saw  her  cheeks 
surge  with  rich,  youthful  life,  and  her  eyes  fill  with 
light.  He  noted  that  there  was  a  wordless  under- 
standing between  the  two. 

Finally  the  three  descended  a  slope  of  the  trail, 
and  there,  Creighton  saw  before  him,  beyond  a 
mountain  stream,  the  cottages  that  made  a  camp; 
and,  crossing  the  bridge,  they  met  Scotty,  who  had 
gone  before  them,  and  now  came  to  welcome  them 
as  they  arrived. 

Quinn  led  Creighton  to  a  tent  cottage,  and  as 
they  passed  through  the  door,  he  said,  "  There  are 
two  cots  here,  as  you  see;  you  are  welcome  to 
sleep  in  one  of  them.  After  a  wash-up,  you  can 
lie  down  and  rest  for  an  hour,  if  you  wish.  Sup- 
per will  not  be  served  until  six  o'clock,  and  I  want 
you  to  be  my  guest." 

"  Thanks !  "  said  Creighton,  as  Quinn  went  out, 
and  he  tried  to  say  something  else,  but  Quinn  had 
gone. 


HITTING  THE  TEAIL  27 

Quinn  found  Jean  sitting  on  the  veranda  of  the 
hotel,  feeding  the  squirrels. 

"  Well !  "  he  said,  as  he  found  his  chair.  "  This 
place  looks  better  all  the  time." 

"  Who  is  Mr.  Creighton?  "  asked  Jean,  directly. 

"  Bob  Creighton  is  his  name.  That's  all  I  know. 
I  met  him  on  the  way  up.  Scotty  says  he's  all 
right." 

"  He  doesn't  look  very  well,  does  he  ?  "  Jean 
queried. 

"  He  has  just  finished  a  term,  he  told  me," 
Quinn  replied.  "  He's  been  rather  closely  con- 
fined, I  imagine — needs  air  and  the  sun." 

"  Isn't  it  a  pity  that  our  colleges  turn  out  so 
many  wrecks  ?  "  cried  Jean,  innocently. 

"  Some  are  turned  out  and  some  graduate.  It 
all  amounts  to  the  same  thing  in  the  long  run,  I 
guess." 

Then  ensued  a  pause.  To  even  the  casual  ob- 
server, the  situation  between  the  two  young  people 
was  plainly  tense. 

"  When  are  you  sailing?  "  Jean  asked  presently, 
breaking  the  silence. 

"  Next  week,"  Quinn  replied.  "  I  have  my  sail- 
ing orders.  It's  all  arranged.  She's  a  funny  old 
boat,  but  she's  better  than  a  hospital!  All  sorts 
of  queer  people  aboard!  Besides,  I  have  that 
mission  with  sealed  orders.  Romantic,  isn't  it  ?  " 
And  then  as  he  saw  her  eyes  were  filling,  he  said, 
more  gravely,  "  Suppose  we  walk! " 


28  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

Jean  nodded. 

Together  they  went  down  the  path  that  led  to 
the  bridge  where  they  could  overlook  the  falls. 

"  I  don't  like  the  falls  to-day,"  Jean  remarked, 
as  they  stood  on  the  bridge.  "  They  are  in  such 
a  hurry  to  get  away  to  the  sea;  they  seem  to  be 
taking  you  away  with  them !  " 

"  I  wouldn't  go !  "  Quinn  replied.  "  If  the  job 
wasn't  put  on  me.  And  the  experience  is  going  to 
help  me.  It's  strange  how  the  marvellous  comes 
into  our  lives !  A  week  ago,  I  knew  nothing  about 
all  this.  But  I'll  turn  the  clock  forward,  and  when 
I  come  back — we'll  be  married  the  day  I  land 
here!" 

And  they  stood  in  silence.  Above  them  towered 
the  mountains,  beneath  them  were  the  falls,  and 
as  the  sun  went  down  behind  the  peaks,  the  peace 
of  Nature's  twilight  entered  into  their  own  hearts. 
They  knew  and  loved  each  other.  Together  they 
would  plan  and  endure. 


Ill 

COMING  BACK 

ON  the  mountainside,  in  a  sheltered  cove 
that  overlooked  the  valley,  stood  a  cabin. 
To  newcomers,  it  was  pointed  out  as  the 
"  Johnson   Home."    A  picturesque  line  of   bay 
trees  shaded  the  roadway  that  led  up  to  the  house 
and  filled  the  air  with  refreshing  odours. 

Here,  for  a  number  of  years  before  his  recent 
death,  Seth  Johnson  had  lived  in  retirement  with 
his  only  daughter.  His  sister  had  taken  care  of 
the  house,  and  had  been,  at  the  same  time,  a  mother 
to  the  girl.  Sam  Stutesman  had  been  for  years 
his  trusted  servant.  Such  was  the  household. 
Seth  and  his  daughter  had  been  inseparable.  She 
had  inherited  from  her  father  much  of  his  temper 
and  fearlessness.  Decided  in  her  likes  and  dis- 
likes, she  was  loyal  to  her  friends,  compassionate 
to  the  unfortunate.  She  had  been  the  pride  of  her 
father,  and  devoted  to  him.  She  had  thrown 
about  him  a  protecting  love  that  made  his  ways 
more  comfortable.  She  knew,  in  a  vague  way, 
that  some  cloud  had  passed  over  the  sky  of  his 
life.  She  knew  also  that  he  had  worked  against 
the  thrusts  of  a  treacherous  combination,  and  that 
he  had  suffered  mentally.  Beyond  this,  he  had  not 

29 


30  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIQHTON 

chosen  to  take  her  into  his  confidence.  But  he 
had  never  allowed  himself  any  self-pity.  He  had 
faced  life  bravely.  "  Time  puts  it  all  into  the 
rag-bag,"  he  had  said.  "  Experience  is  costly,  but 
it's  worth  it." 

Johnson  had  been  a  man  of  initiative  and 
energy.  He  had  been  drawn  West  as  a  young 
man  by  the  promise  of  its  resources  and  oppor- 
tunities. He  had  tramped  many  a  mile  over  the 
mountains.  It  was  a  long  story.  His  wife  had 
died  before  the  better  days  had  begun  to  dawn,  and 
he  found  himself  alone  with  his  child  and  a  for- 
tune. He  had  sent  Beth  away  to  a  girls'  school, 
and  subsequently  to  college.  All  her  school  ex- 
perience had  been  shared  with  Jean  Mundell ;  they 
were  fast  friends.  Beth's  father — for  some  rea- 
son or  other — a  guardian  to  Jean — had  suggested 
that  Jean  make  her  home  with  them,  after  college 
was  over  for  the  girls.  "  You  will  be  company 
for  each  other,"  he  had  said. 

Beth  remembered  the  home  in  which  she  had 
lived  in  the  city  when  she  was  a  child,  but  she  al- 
ways loved  the  cabin  in  the  mountains.  Each 
summer  they  had  gone  a  little  earlier,  remained  a 
little  later,  and  when  on  a  fine  September  after- 
noon her  father  asked  if  she  could  make  it  her 
home,  Beth  rejoiced.  "We  can  go  down  to  the 
city  as  often  as  we  wish,"  he  had  said,  "  and  we 
have  the  telephone  and  the  mail  to  keep  us  in  touch 
with  the  world." 


COMING  BACK  31 

Now,  Beth  had  known  that  her  father,  retired 
though  he  was,  was  not  idle.  He  often  made  long 
trips,  coming  and  going  at  unexpected  intervals. 
On  certain  days  he  always  met  the  postman. 
Sometimes  a  number  of  men  called  and  went  away, 
having  received  orders.  Quinn,  she  understood 
vaguely,  was  concerned  in  all  of  this  mystery. 
Her  father  had  said  as  much. 

"  I've  put  my  affairs  into  the  hands  of  a  trust 
company,"  he  said  one  day.  "  I  don't  like  de- 
tails, and  as  I  am  Quinn's  guardian,  I  have  placed 
his  affairs  with  the  same  company.  When  I  am 
gone,  they  will  tell  you  what  to  do."  He  paused 
reflectively.  "And  they  will  have,"  he  added, 
"  a  commission  for  Quinn  to  perform.  The  na- 
ture of  it " 

Beth  listened  thoughtfully.  "Why  do  you 
speak  in  this  way,  Daddy  dear  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  It's  my  love  for  you,"  he  replied,  "  and  my 
duty  to  somebody  else.  That's  what  has  kept 
me  alive." 

Then  Sam  called  him,  and  the  two  men  walked 
down  the  path  together,  talking  earnestly.  It  was 
the  last  conversation  Beth  had  with  her  father. 
He  died  a  few  weeks  later.  What  commission 
for  Quinn  had  been  placed  in  the  hands  of  the 
trust  company,  her  father  had  forgotten  to  tell 
her. 

As  Jean  and  Quinn  stood  overlooking  the  falls, 
Beth  came  along  the  trail.  As  she  reached  the 


32  VINDICATION  OF  EGBERT  CEEIGHTON 

bridge,  they  called  to  her  and  the  young  man  with 
her — he  was  Duke  Bunnell,  Quinn  noticed. 

Standing  on  the  bridge,  they  all  watched  the 
water  plunge  from  the  rocky  shelf  until  dinner 
time,  when  they  walked  to  the  hotel,  where  they 
found  Creighton  pacing  back  and  forth  on  the 
veranda.  On  entering  the  dining-room,  now 
crowded  with  guests,  to  Creighton's  relief  he  was 
placed  alone  at  a  table  where  he  could  see  and 
think. 

Rock  Room  had  been  so  named  because  in  the 
corner  of  the  lobby  there  was  a  boulder.  Around 
this  boulder  the  room  had  been  built.  Upon  its 
top  a  dozen  or  more  children  could  be  installed. 
To  the  left  of  it  was  a  fireplace,  on  whose  andirons 
logs  glowed  a  welcome.  In  the  opposite  corner 
was  a  table  made  out  of  a  log,  cut  through  and 
polished.  The  walls  were  decorated  with  the  skins 
of  animals. 

Quinn  believed  in  taking  a  childlike  part  in  chil- 
dren's pleasures.  As  he  came  into  the  room  after 
dinner,  he  was  greeted  with  a  cheer.  Scotty,  never 
far  from  his  master,  settled  himself  on  the  bear- 
skin in  front  of  the  fireplace,  looked  up  into  his 
master's  face  as  much  as  to  say,  "  You're  a  won- 
der," then  turned  his  head  to  one  side  as  if  to 
listen  more  attentively. 

Quinn  began  with  a  rapid  fire  of  questions. 
"  One  of  our  boys,"  he  said,  "  has  sunburn.  Why 
is  his  skin  full  of  fire  while  mine  is  not?  What 
is  the  difference  between  orange  skin  and  an  apple 


COMING  BACK  33 

skin,  peach  skin  or  a  baseball  covering?  Why  are 
some  skins  tender  and  some  tough?  What  hap- 
pens when  a  skin  is  tanned?  Do  liquids  have 
skins?  What  holds  a  drop  of  water  together? 
Why  is  it  round  ?  Have  all  liquids  the  same  kind 
of  skins?  Will  fifty  drops  of  alcohol  give  you  the 
same  bulk  in  quantity  that  you  get  from  fifty  drops 
of  water  ?  Yes  or  no ;  why  ?  " 

By  this  time  everybody  was  interested. 

"  I'm  holding  a  fine  sieve  in  my  hand,"  con- 
tinued Ouinn.  "  Over  the  wire  in  the  sieve,  I'm 
going  to  rub  the  end  of  this  candle.  Now  I  will 
fill  the  sieve  with  water.  The  water  won't  run 
through.  Why  not?  But  when  I  pour  alcohol 
into  the  sieve,  it  goes  through !  Why  ?  " 

"  It  cuts  its  way  through,"  said  one  of  the  boys. 

"Why?" 

"  It's  different." 

"What  is  the  difference?" 

"  It  has  a  finer  skin." 

"  Now,  the  skin  of  a  drop  of  water  will  stretch. 
To  stretch  it  better,  we  will  mix  a  little  glycerine 
in  it.  See  how,  when  I  blow  into  the  water,  each 
drop  stretches,  enlarges  until  we  have  a  fine,  large 
bubble.  Now  see  how,  when  I  shake  it  off  from 
the  end  of  the  blow-pipe,  it  comes  down.  I  can 
catch  it  on  my  hand,  throw  it  up,  have  it  rebound 
from  my  sleeve,  jump  back  again,  and  all  this  be- 
cause it  is  elastic,  almost  like  a  rubber  ball. 

"  In  this  bottle  I  have  some  ether.  You  don't 
know  now  what  that  is,  but  never  mind  about  that. 


34  VINDICATION  OF  EGBERT  CEEIGHTON 

I'm  going  to  pour  some  of  the  ether  on  a  piece  of 
this  blotter,  drop  the  blotter  into  a  jar,  blow  the 
bubble,  hold  it  over  the  jar  and  saturate  it  with 
the  ether  vapour.  To  do  this,  I  must  lower  the 
bubble  into  the  jar  because  the  vapour  is  too  heavy 
to  come  to  the  top.  When  you  go  into  a  cave," 
Ouinn  said,  turning  to  the  boys  who  were  sitting 
on  a  rock,  "  don't  lie  down  unless  the  cave  is  well 
ventilated.  Poison  vapours  crawl  along  the  floor, 
and  if  you  lie  down  and  breathe  them,  they  may 
kill  you.  Don't  forget  that.  What  has  happened 
to  our  bubble?  Just  as  the  alcohol  cut  its  way 
through  the  paraffin  in  the  sieve,  so  the  vapour 
from  the  ether  has  cut  small  holes  into  the  skin 
of  the  bubble  and  crawled  inside.  Now  I  will  lift 
the  bubble  out.  Watch !  " 

As  Quinn  held  it  nearer  the  candle,  the  bubble 
ignited,  and,  with  a  tiny  puff,  exploded. 

"  A  balloon  on  fire,"  shouted  one  of  the  boys. 

Another  and  still  another  bubble  was  blown  and 
burned,  while  the  children  cheered  with  excite- 
ment. 

While  all  this  was  going  on,  Creighton  sat  un- 
observed just  inside  and  back  of  the  door. 

"What  sort  of  human  is  this  anyway?"  he 
mused  to  himself  as  he  watched  Quinn.  "  Gives 
a  stranger  a  lift,  shares  his  bunk  with  him,  is  the 
center  of  attraction  at  the  dinner  table,  is  at  home 
with  the  children,  and  now,  in  a  perfectly  easy  and 
natural  manner,  is  welding  all  ages  together  around 
a  point  of  common  interest." 


COMING  BACK  35 

At  first  Creighton  had  looked  amused,  then  in- 
terested, then  absorbed.  Before  he  was  aware  of 
it,  the  muscles  of  his  face  had  relaxed,  there  was 
a  tremor  on  his  lip.  He  noted  now  how  Jean, 
Beth  and  Duke  were  working  together  to  make  the 
evening  successful,  and  he  observed  what  a  happy 
company  all  these  people  were  as  they  left  the 
room  and  sauntered  out  onto  the  porch.  As  he 
went,  one  of  the  boys  grasped  his  hand  and  ex- 
claimed, "  Wasn't  that  fun  ?  "  Creighton  trem- 
bled. It  had  been  ages  since  his  hand  had  touched 
the  soft,  warm  fingers  of  a  child ! 

For  a  long  time  Creighton  stood  outside  the  door 
of  the  tent  cottage,  going  over  the  events  of  the 
day.  At  first  he  was  happy;  then  came  a  violent 
revulsion.  A  whirlpool  of  grief  seemed  sucking 
him  in.  This  day  of  all  days  had  been  hardest 
for  Creighton  to  bear.  It  was  the  anniversary  of 
his  wedding.  The  years  had  come  and  gone,  and 
with  them  all  that  life  held  in  store  of  happiness 
and  hope.  How  terrible  life  is!  In  the  distance 
he  heard  voices,  laughter,  applause.  From  the  big 
house  came  the  music  of  a  waltz,  and,  through  the 
windows,  he  saw  the  young  people  dancing.  The 
wind  stirred  in  the  trees  that  swayed  gravely  as 
they  flung  their  shadows  around  him.  Through 
the  leaves,  he  saw  the  young  moon,  close  at  hand ; 
moths  were  beating  in  the  tent  light.  Now  all  the 
lights  flashed  twice,  the  warning  signal  for  bed, 
for  in  twenty  minutes  the  dynamo  would  stop. 


36  VINDICATION  OF  EOBERT  CEEIGHTON 

Suddenly  the  air  was  vibrant  with  the  notes  of 
an  old  melody.  Creighton  listened: 

"  Mid  pleasures  and  palaces, 
Though  we  may  roam, — " 

The  melody  fell  upon  his  withered  life  like  a  re- 
freshing shower: 

"  A  charm  from  the  skies 

Seems  to  hallow  us  there 
Which,  seek  through  the  world, 
Is  ne'er  met  with  elsewhere." 

He  was  awestruck  with  the  beauty  of  it.  As 
wave  after  wave  of  the  song  pulsed  through  his  be- 
ing, it  seemed  to  Creighton  that  his  soul  was  being 
cleaned  of  the  prison  taint  that  had  clung  to  him 
like  the  scent  of  death. 

For  the  first  time  in  many  years,  a  tear  ran  over 
his  cheek.  But  he  did  not  heed  his  tears.  He 
only  knew,  in  a  dim  way,  that  he  was  coming  back. 
In  his  memory,  the  happy  faces  of  the  children 
lately  with  him  were  glorified,  and  as  the  warm 
drops  wet  his  face,  he  knew  relief,  and  peace  like 
a  mantle  settled  on  his  spirit. 

Long  after  the  lights  had  gone  out  he  walked 
beneath  the  stars.  At  last  he  went  inside. 

For  a  moment,  on  his  bed  he  lay  enjoying  the 
comfort  of  it  all;  then  his  eyes  closed  in  slumber, 
and  he  fell  asleep  in  a  chamber  whose  windows 
opened  toward  the  dawn.  Yes,  Creighton  had 
"  come  back." 


IV 

A  THOROUGHBRED 

WHEN  Creighton  came  out  of  the  dining- 
room  the  next  morning,  some  one  ap- 
proached him  and,  handing  him  his 
card,  said,  "  Good-morning,  sir.  My  name  is 
Russell.  I  am  chairman  of  the  Board  of  Super- 
visors." He  went  on  to  say  that  an  unexpected 
situation  had  arisen  and  he  wondered  if  Creighton 
would  be  willing  to  help  him  out.  Quinn  had 
thought  perhaps  he  might.  An  engineering  proj- 
ect was  under  way,  and  an  expert  was  needed; 
half  a  day  would  prove  whether  Creighton  could 
swing  the  job.  He  said  much  about  rainfall,  soil, 
tree  growth  and  the  necessity  of  gathering  data  on 
the  same. 

It  was  hard  for  Creighton  to  quiet  the  rising 
tide  of  emotion  that  arose  within  him.  For  a 
moment  he  seemed  to  be  sailing  away  into  uncon- 
sciousness, but  not  knowing  just  what  to  say,  he 
managed  to  stammer  out: 

"  I  should  think  it  would  be  a  good  thing  to  con- 
sult, along  with  government  reports,  the  pioneers 
in  the  valley,  and  the  prospectors  in  the  mountains. 

37 


38  VINDICATION  OF  BOBEBT  CEEIGHTON 

Through  the  years  they  have  accumulated  some 
first-hand  knowledge  that  would  be  exceedingly 
valuable." 

"  Precisely,"  replied  Russell.  "  Sam,"  he  called, 
looking  to  the  other  end  of  the  veranda,  "  I  want 
you  to  meet  Mr.  Creighton,"  and  turning  and  call- 
ing again,  "  Duke,  come  here  a  minute,  please," 
and  to  Creighton  he  introduced  Duke  Bunnell,  one 
of  the  engineers. 

"  Mr.  Creighton,  gentlemen,"  said  Russell,  "  is 
the  superintendent  of  your  gang,  and  I  want  you 
to  give  him  the  benefit  of  what  you  know  about 
the  mountains.  You  are  to  drill  through  the  sand 
and  gravel  for  bed-rock,  down  in  the  narrows  of 
the  Arroyo." 

All  this  had  come  about  so  quickly,  so  melodra- 
matically, that  it  was  fortunate  for  Creighton  that 
he  had  a  little  time  to  think  things  over  going 
down  the  trail,  also  that  Sam  volunteered  some 
general  information  concerning  the  undertaking. 

When  Creighton  came  into  camp,  he  found  the 
tent  houses  for  the  men  in  place,  kitchen  and  din- 
ing service  installed,  and  everything  in  readiness 
to  go  forward  with  the  drilling. 

There  were  granite  walls  on  both  sides  of  the 
bank  at  a  place  where  the  Arroyo  narrowed  clown 
to  three  hundred  feet.  Here,  a  dam  with  sluices 
to  let  out  the  overflow  was  to  be  put  in,  and  above 
it,  a  bridge  to  connect  the  foothills  road.  As  he 
turned  and  looked  toward  the  mountains,  Creigh- 


A  THOEOUGHBEED  39 

ton  saw  before  him  the  natural  basin  for  a  reser- 
voir— the  place  for  a  storage  lake.  He  thrilled  at 
the  thought  of  it,  and  said  to  himself  as  he  joined 
the  men  for  the  evening  meal:  "  A  great  thing  for 
the  country!  And  work  for  an  army  of  men!  " 

"  That  man,  Quinn,  is  a  prince,"  said  Sam,  as 
the  men  were  eating  in  the  tent  dining-room. 
"  Clean  as  a  hound's  tooth,  and  what  he  doesn't 
know  about  the  mountains  isn't  in  the  books." 

"  Well,  he  ought  to  know  it,"  replied  one  of 
them.  "  Here's  where  he  grew  up.  He  had  it 
bumped  into  him  and  rubbed  into  him,  and  soaked 
into  him." 

"  You  know  these  parts,  Mr.  Creighton  ?  "  in- 
quired a  man  sitting  next  to  him. 

Creighton  felt  a  strange  sensation.  Not  for  a 
long  time  had'he  sat  in  a  circle  of  men,  treated  as 
an  equal.  He  drank  a  glass  of  water,  then  clear- 
ing his  throat  and  ignoring  the  question  that  had 
been  directed  at  him,  he  said: 

11  You  called  Quinn  a  thoroughbred.  Why — 
may  I  ask?  " 

"  Why !  Quinn's  dad  was  chief  ranger  of  this 
whole  section  years  ago,  but  he  lost  his  money  try- 
ing to  put  a  railroad  through,"  said  Sam,  "  and 
when  his  folks  died,  Quinn  had  to  shift  for  him- 
self. He  had  plenty  of  chances  to  go  over  the 
toboggan,  all  right.  The  skids  were  greased  for 
him,  as  they  are  for  any  man  who  is  just  natu- 
rally popular  like  he  is.  But  look  at  him !  He  was 


40  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEKT  CEEIGHTON 

up  and  fussing  early  this  morning  about  a  pros- 
pector up  in  his  shack!  Quinn  went  to  see  him 
before  breakfast,  and  he  was  saying,  '  Poor  scout 
seems  to  be  doing  everything  he  can  to  drink  him- 
self to  death,  and  it  looks  as  if  he  was  going  to 
have  his  own  way  about  it.  I  don't  know  what  we 
can  do  to  stop  it.  Seems  a  little  late  in  the  day  for 
him  to  wake  up.'  Quinn  has  more  real  fun  doing 
what  he's  doing  than  any  man  I  know!  Money? 
He  doesn't  know  its  colour.  He's  as  poor  as  any  of 
us,  but  if  this  project  goes  through,  a  ranch  in  the 
valley  that  belongs  to  him  can  be  irrigated.  This 
will  put  him  on  easy  street  where  a  thoroughbred 
like  him  ought  to  be." 

'  Creighton  began  to  feel  a  little  more  at  ease. 
"  The  thing  that  strikes  me  about  Quinn,"  he  said, 
"  is  the  fact  that  he  knows  what  he's  talking 
about!" 

"  Now  you're  talking,"  said  Sam.  "  Did  you 
see  how  he  entertained  the  kiddies,  and  all  the  time 
he  was  telling  the  grown-ups  a  lot  of  things  they 
never  knew  before  ?  I  heard  him  tell  the  boys  one 
night,  '  It  isn't  what  you  see/  says  he,  '  going  over 
the  trail,  and  it  isn't  what  you  hear ;  it's  what  you 
remember  that  makes  you  educated.' 

"  We  had  a  parson  up  here  not  long  ago,"  Sam 
continued,  "  and  he  was  telling  Quinn  about  what 
he  believed,  and  why,  and  Quinn  said  to  him, 
'  There's  enough  faith  in  the  world  anyway,  and  I 
guess  it  won't  make  much  difference  if  a  few  of 


A  THOROUGHBKED  41 

us  are  a  bit  short  on  it.  At  present  I'm  going  in 
for  plain  human  helpfulness.  And  I  don't  want 
any  promise  of  reward  except  the  pleasure  of  do- 
ing a  good  turn.  Of  course  I've  not  lived  very 
long,  and  I  may  see  things  different  some  day.' ' 

As  Creighton  listened,  he  found  himself 
strangely  stirred.  It  was  well  for  him  that  the 
dusk  of  the  evening  concealed  his  features.  With- 
out further  comment,  he  arose  and  sauntered  over 
to  where  a  fire  was  burning  on  the  banks  of  the 
Arroyo.  Around  it,  some  of  the  men  from  camp 
had  gathered,  and  they  had  been  joined  by  a  dozen 
blanket  hoboes  who  had  wandered  in  from  all  di- 
rections. It  was  an  odd  aggregation.  An  air  of 
general  shabbiness  characterized  most  of  them. 
The  men  had  never  met  before,  but  they  seemed 
to  have  come  together  in  the  spirit  of  an  old  time 
reunion.  Each  man  had  his  story,  and  soon  they 
were  comparing  notes  and  drawing  conclusions. 

It  was  plain,  now,  that  not  all  of  them  were 
common  tramps.  Indeed,  the  only  inference  a 
casual  listener  could  draw  from  what  he  might 
hear  was  that  while  all  the  men  were  tramps,  they 
had,  by  no  means,  always  been  so!  There  are 
men  who,  from  choice,  spend  their  days  wander- 
ing to  and  fro.  A  spirit  of  restlessness  drives 
them.  Several  of  these  men  belonged  to  that  class. 
They  had  had  every  opportunity  of  self-improve- 
ment, but  by  an  unaccountable  impulse  they  had 
let  themselves  slip,  had  become  wanderers.  And 


42  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CREIGHTON 

while  they  were  well  informed,  clever,  after  a 
fashion,  their  lives  counted  for  naught — they  were 
vagabonds. 

"  Sit  in,  pard,"  one  of  the  men  called  out  as 
Creighton  drew  near.  But  as  Creighton's  eyes 
swept  around  the  circle  in  answer  to  the  general 
welcome  that  was  extended  to  him,  his  gaze  met 
that  of  a  man  who  answered  to  the  name  of  Swen. 
There  was  a  look  of  surprised  recognition,  the  ex- 
change of  a  mental  message — that  was  all ;  for  the 
attention  of  the  company  was  once  more  centered 
upon  one  man  who,  continuing  the  animated  dis- 
cussion, directed  his  remarks  to  the  one  opposite 
him,  saying: 

"If  your  dad  had  given  as  much  time  to  your 
bringing-up  as  he  did  to  his  horses,  you'd  be  quite 
a  man,  eh  ?  " 

"  Don't  blame  it  on  the  old  man,"  interposed 
another,  filling  his  pipe,  "  and  don't  charge  it  up 
to  anybody  else  if  you're  a  runt.  This  lay  in'  the 
blame  on  somebody  else  was  started  back  in  Eden 
when  Adam  remarked,  '  The  woman  did  it/ 
Nothin'  doin'!  If  Adam  had  been  half  a  man, 
he'd  'ave  said,  '  Do  anything  to  me  you  want 
to,  but  don't  you  touch  Eve;  she's  my  one  best 
girl!' 

"  Women  are  the  limit,  but  any  man  that  tries 
to  get  under  cover  by  puttin'  the  blame  on  a  woman 
for  any  trouble  he  has  got  hisself  into,  is  just  a 
natural  born  low-down  sneak.  Some  preacher 


A  THOEOUGHBEED  43 

ought  to  read  the  burial  service  over  Adam;  he's 
been  in  the  spotlight  a  whole  lot  longer  than  he's 
any  right  to  be." 

Then  springing  to  his  feet,  in  renewed  anima- 
tion, the  speaker  continued,  "  I  say,  any  of  you 
fellers  ever  know  the  millionaire  hobo?  He's  a 
regular  feller,  all  right.  I  met  him  a  few  nights 
ago  and  I  asked  him  how  he  got  his  million. 

"  '  Do  you  really  want  to  know?  '  he  asked. 

"  '  I  sure  do,'  I  said,  '  I'm  interested.' 

"  '  All  right/  he  said,  '  there's  just  ten  reasons 
why  I'm  a  millionaire.  I  always  get  up  at  six, 
regularity;  I  cultivate  a  friendly  spirit,  courtesy; 
I  save  ten  cents  on  every  dollar  I  get,  economy;  I 
always  brush  my  clothes  and  shine  my  shoes,  in- 
cludin'  the  heels,  cleanliness;  I  eat  wholesome 
food,  plain  living;  I  never  carry  a  grouch,  cheer- 
fulness; I  always  meet  my  obligations  promptly, 
credit  good;  I  associate  with  people  who've  suc- 
ceeded, good  company ;  I  never  do  things  in  a  slip- 
shod way,  thoroughness ;  an' — I  inherited  a  million 
two  hundred  thousand  dollars  from  an  uncle  I 
never  saw ! ' 

"  I've  got  nine-tenths  of  the  qualifications,"  one 
man  exclaimed.  "  All  I  need  is  a  rich  uncle.  I'm 
always  out  of  luck." 

"  Here !  Here's  a  horseshoe !  "  called  a  hobo, 
as  he  threw  an  object  across  the  circle. 

Another  one  came  from  the  opposite  side. 
"  Hold  on,"  cried  the  recipient ;  "  don't  throw  any 


44  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

more.  One  horseshoe  is  good  luck — a  wagon  load 
of  'em  's  junk." 

"  I'd  as  lief  have  a  wagon  load  of  horseshoes  as 
an  acre  of  this  land,"  grunted  the  man  who  had 
thrown  the  first  one. 

"That's  where  you're  off,"  replied  the  other; 
"  it's  as  fine  a  piece  of  country  as  ever  a  man 
th rowed  his  eyes  over.  If  a  man  didn't  know  the 
difference,  he'd  think,  by  gracious,  it  was  all  to 
the  bad.  I'm  just  giving  my  opinion  that  any  man 
who  wants  to  do  it  can  make  himself  rich  right 
here  in  ten  years.  I  remember  down  South,  they 
said  land  was  worthless  sandstone.  It  wasn't 
sandstone  at  all.  One  day  a  man  came  along,  took 
off  the  top  of  the  ground,  dug  down  five  or  six 
feet,  found  a  regular  bed  of  phosphate,  and  shov- 
elled out  the  cash." 

"  Exactly,"  came  the  reply.  "  Luck  dropping  in 
without  even  ringing  the  bell." 

"  Another  sizz  out  of  the  siphon.  Old  man, 
your  gear  is  stripped  and  your  valves  are  stuck !  " 
This  last  remark  was  suggested  by  an  automobile 
coming  up  the  grade  along  the  mountain  road. 

"  Engine  trouble,"  said  one  of  the  men,  rising. 
"  Guess  I'd  better  go  and  see  what  I  can  do." 

The  man  in  the  machine,  on  coming  around  a 
curve  in  the  road,  saw  the  fire  in  the  Arroyo,  and 
the  men  sitting  around  it.  "  Look  at  that  bunch 
of  bums,"  he  said  to  his  wife.  "  They  can  tell  you 
how  to  solve  all  of  the  problems  of  the  world.  Bet 


A  THOEOUGHBEED  45 

you  a  new  hat  there's  not  a  man  among  them  but 
has  a  most  profound  contempt  for  anything  that 
even  suggests  a  fair  day's  work!  If  laziness  puts 
a  man  in  rags,  to  quote  our  parson,  those  fellows 
are  going  into  the  rag  business  just  as  fast  as 
time  and  laziness  can  carry  them." 

By  that  time  his  engine  had  stopped  entirely. 
The  owner  was  a  greenhorn  driver,  and,  getting 
out  of  his  car,  he  proceeded  to  go  over  the  machine, 
trying  to  adjust  the  difficulty. 

"  Engine  trouble  ? "  queried  the  hobo  from  the 
camp,  approaching.  Then  looking  over  the  man's 
shoulder,  he  continued,  "  Your  carbureter  is  dry. 
You  haven't  enough  gas  in  your  tank  to  supply 
your  engine.  Turn  on  your  emergency.  Then 
she'll  work  all  right." 

Taking  his  place  in  the  car,  the  owner  tossed 
the  stranger  a  quarter. 

"  He  knew  what  to  do,  didn't  he,  Daddy?  "  said 
the  little  girl  who  sat  beside  her  father,  as  he 
threw  his  clutch  into  second  with  a  jam.  "Are 
they  all  just  tramps?  " 

Returning  to  the  circle  around  the  fire,  the 
tramp  remarked,  in  English,  surprisingly  good: 
"  Mr.  Newlyrich  taking  his  family  across  the  coun- 
try! He  tossed  me  a  two-bit  piece.  That's  his 
idea  of  the  price  of  an  idea  that  got  him  into  the 
city,  when  he  might  be  spending  the  night  in  the 
roadside.  This  is  a  land  flowing  with  milk  and 
gasoline,  but  all  the  same  it's  a  rotten  deal  that 


46  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CKEIGHTON 

put  me  where  I  am.  I  worked  for  an  old  gink, 
got  up  at  four  in  the  morning,  milked  thirty  cows, 
worked  all  day  in  the  field,  milked  thirty  cows  at 
night,  did  the  chores,  piled  in  at  ten,  out  again  at 
four,  seven  days  in  the  week,  for  thirty  dollars  a 
month. 

"  One  Sunday  he  drove  to  church  and  passed 
me  on  the  road.  It  was  hot,  but  he  never  even 
offered  to  give  me  a  lift.  Now,  I've  got  as  much 
reverence  as  anybody  for  high  and  holy  things, 
but  that's  what  I  call  a  dirty  turn.  '  Two  can  play 
at  that  game,'  I  says  to  myself,  '  and  here's  where 
I  go  down  the  line.'  Curse  me  for  a  blanket  hobo, 
if  you  like,  but  I  left  that  old  rotter  to  milk  his 
own  cows.  None  of  that  kind  of  pious  stuff  for 
mine !  It  isn't  the  work  I  mind,  it's  the  condition. 
Ain't  that  good  enough  gospel,  Deacon  ?  "  he  cried, 
addressing  another  vagabond. 

"  Why  don't  you  change  the  conditions  and 
milk  your  own  cows  ?  "  came  the  retort.  "  Jacob 
did.  You  never  went  to  Sunday  School  and 
memorized  the  proper  names. and  all;  you  don't 
know  who  Jacob  was.  Jacob  was  the  original 
blanket  hobo.  Like  some  of  the  rest  of  us,  he  got 
in  bad  and  had  to  hot  foot  it  out  of  town  between 
days.  After  the  natives  found  he'd  flown  the  coop, 
they  got  together  and  gave  him  the  once-over.  '  I 
always  knew  he  was  a  bad  egg,'  chirped  one  old 
Jezebel.  *  Turned  out  just  as  I  expected,'  piped 
up  Mrs.  Ananias.  '  Good  riddance  to  bad  rub- 


A  THOROUGHBRED  47 

bish/  said  Delilah.  But  nary  a  one  was  ready  to 
say,  '  Good-bye,  old  man,  I'm  sorry  you're  going. 
Good  luck  to  you ! ' 

"  That  night  he  unrolled  his  blanket  and  slept 
with  his  head  on  a  rock.  He  dreamed  there  was  a 
ladder  set  on  the  earth,  and  it  reached  to  heaven. 
There  were  angels  on  it  and  one  of  them  said, 
'  This  is  a  bad  deal.  You're  in  wrong,  but  you've 
got  it  in  you  to  make  good.  Why  don't  you  do  it  ? 
We're  for  you  strong.' 

"  The  next  morning  he  woke  with  the  birds,  and 
before  the  camp  came  to,  he  was  down  the  road, 
traveling  to  beat  the  cars.  He  got  a  job  on  his 
uncle's  cattle  ranch,  fell  in  love  with  his  cousin, 
put  one  over  on  his  father-in-law,  got  to  be  the 
biggest  cattle  king  in  his  part  of  the  country,  and 
when  he  went  back  to  the  old  home  to  visit  the 
folks,  he  had  a  fortune,  and  I  forget  how  many 
kids." 

"  That's  going  some  for  the  black  sheep  of  the 
family,"  somebody  shouted. 

"  Oh,  that  isn't  the  best  of  it.  When  he  got 
back,  the  relatives  that  had  fired  him,  and  the 
neighbours  that  had  knocked  him,  worked  over 
time  telling  how  '  he  was  the  family  pride '  and 
how  they  '  always  had  predicted  wonderful  things 
for  Jacob.'  Can  you  beat  it  ?  " 

"  No,  you  can't  beat  it  because  it's  true  to  life," 
answered  one  of  the  men.  "  Success  covers  a  mul- 
titude of  bad  breaks,  as  the  saying  goes." 


48  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

The  last  speaker  was  a  man  beyond  middle  age. 
He  wore  baggy  trousers,  a  flannel  shirt  and  a  sack 
coat.  His  hair  protruded  below  the  rim  of  an  old 
derby  that  came  far  down  over  his  ears.  He  was 
broad  and  squatty.  His  nose  was  huge  and  red. 
He  was  full  of  wise  maxims,  good-natured  im- 
prudence and  shrewdness;  the  wreck  of  what 
might  have  been! 

"  There  are  just  two  kinds  of  people  in  the 
world,"  he  said,  "  highbrows  and  roughnecks,  and 
the  difference  between  the  two  is  a  three  days' 
growth  of  whiskers.  And  there  are  two  agencies 
of  civilization,  razors  and  shower  baths.  Dirt  is 
a  figure  of  speech.  Jam  on  bread  is  food ;  jam  on 
a  boy's  face  is  dirt.  It's  all  a  matter  of  location, 
as  the  saying  goes." 

"  By  that  classification  you're  a  neutral,"  a  man 
broke  in. 

"  Is  that  so?  I'm  a  neutral,  am  I?  "  Then  he 
landed  verbal  blows  on  his  critic.  He  based  his 
statements  upon  what  he  called  his  own  experi- 
ences. "  Them's  what  I  calls  the  facts  in  the  case. 
The  world  ain't  no  Christmas  turkey  waiting  to 
be  carved,  but  a  man  ain't  poor  unless  he  has  lost 
his  nerve.  Where  does  the  wonder  and  the  mys- 
tery and  the  adventure  come  in,  as  the  saying  goes, 
if  a  man  knows  each  day  of  his  life  just  where 
his  next  meal  is  coming  from  ?  But  when  you  are 
on  your  uppers,  not  a  cent  in  your  jeans,  and  you 
have  got  to  meet  the  cold  stare  of  people  who 


49 

watch  you  come  up  the  path  and  are  ready  for 
you,  dogs  and  all,  and  you  have  nothing  but  your 
wits  to  help  you  win  your  way,  take  it  from  me,  it 
takes  brains  to  get  away  with  it,  as  the  saying 
goes." 

"  We've  been  there,"  one  of  the  men  exclaimed. 

Then  without  heeding  the  interruption,  the 
speaker  went  on  to  regale  the  company  with  the 
story  of  his  wanderings  and  experiences.  He 
seemed  drunk  with  his  own  exuberance.  There 
was  no  occupation  which  he  had  not  followed,  no 
section  of  the  country  he  had  not  visited. 

"  You're  full  of  hop,  old  boy,"  spoke  up  a  voice 
at  last.  "  Your  cogs  don't  mesh.  Your  circles 
don't  come  true.  You'd  be  a  hundred  and  fifty 
years  old,  not  a  day  less,  and  that  wouldn't  be 
time  enough  for  a  man  to  bring  in  the  runs  you've 
marked  up  to  your  credit." 

"  Don't  string  yourself,  my  friend.  This  is  a 
camp-fire,  the  one  democratic  institution  on  earth. 
Here  the  grouch  gets  his,  and  each  man  is  as  good 
as  any  other  man — if  he  is,  as  the  saying  goes,  and 
no  questions  asked,"  and  the  speaker  took  off  his 
hat  and  made  a  bow  to  the  company.  "  This  is  a 
big  world,"  he  continued.  "  Some  people  should 
always  be  personally  conducted,  as  the  saying 
goes ;  they  ought  never  to  take  the  road  alone." 

"  Now  you're  playing  it  safe,  old  top,"  shouted 
a  man  with  a  loud  voice. 

"  I  always  play  it  safe.     We  are  all  kindred 


60  VINDICATION^OF  EGBERT  CEEIGHTON 

spirits,  as  the  saying  goe'sT*"  We  oelong  to  me  same 
church." 

"  And  right  here  is  where  I  take  up  the  collec- 
tion," said  the  "  deacon."  Then,  as  if  a  serious 
thought  had  suddenly  gripped  him,  he  continued, 
"  Oh,  I've  passed  the  plate  and  ushered  in  my  time, 
and  I'll  say  right  here  that  those  were  among  the 
happiest  days  of  my  life.  To  usher  people  into 
their  pews  and  make  each  one  of  them  feel  that 
they  had  received  just  the  right  amount  of  atten- 
tion, then  to  hold  the  collection  plate  square  in 
front  of  some  old  miser,  to  stop  right  there  until 
you  separate  the  old  dub  from  his  coin,  and  watch 
the  agony  of  the  operation  as  it  registers  itself  on 
his  face!  Whoopee!  Then  to  pass  the  fellow  in 
the  next  pew  and  to  make  him  feel  at  home  though 
he  can't  pay — that  takes  real  generalship." 

"  Cut  it  out,  Deacon,"  exclaimed  a  burly  young 
fellow.  "  What  would  happen  to  you  if  you  went 
back?  That  is  the  question.  It's  a  cinch  you'd 
never  get  your  hand  on  another  collection 
plate." 

"  I  don't  know  what  would  happen  if  I  went 
back.  I  only  know  what  did  happen.  We  had  a 
swell  choir  in  our  church.  Jonsie,  a  fine  man  with 
a  big  voice,  sang  bass.  He  would  take  the  low 
notes  so  far  down  he  had  to  reach  up  to  touch 
bottom.  Will  Kinney  used  to  say  how  comfort- 
able a  feeling  it  was  just  to  sit  back  and  not  have 
to  hold  your  breath  to  help  over  the  hard  places, 


A  THOBOUGHBBED  61 

dead  sure  that  Jonsie  would  come  up  at  the  right 
minute  without  being  torpedoed  off  the  key. 

"  And  I  never  heard  any  one  sing  *  The  Holy 
City '  the  way  the  tenor  sang  it.  He  just  took  us 
up  to  the  gate  and  held  us  there,  for  when  that 
man  filled  his  lungs  for  a  long  note,  he  took  in  air 
enough  to  float  a  balloon.  He  was  the  director  of 
the  choir,  and  it  was  better  than  a  movie  to  see 
him  stand  before  the  chorus  when  they  were  com- 
ing up  to  a  climax,  shake  his  fists  and  shout,  *  Now, 
say  something !  Say  something ! ' 

"  There  were  a  lot  of  fine  people  in  that  choir, 
and  I  remember  the  bunch  because  I  can't  forget 
the  little  girl  in  it.  She  was  a  true  pal.  If  I'd 
stayed  by  her  and  taken  her  tip,  I  wouldn't  be 
here ;  but  I  kicked  against  what  I  called  '  cramped 
surroundings.'  I  wanted  a  bigger  sphere.  My 
vanity  ran  away  with  me.  Knock  the  church  peo- 
ple all  you  want  to;  you're  calling  in  the  devil  as 
doctor  when  you  do.  They're  a  whole  lot  better 
than  I  am.  I'm  not  going  to  carry  my  bluff  any 
further.  I've  quit  making  fun  of  what  I  know  is 
good.  I've  hit  the  toboggan  good  and  hard  since 
then.  I  wish  I  was  back.  Some  day  I'm  going." 

"  You're  all  right,  Deacon,  just  perfectly  all 
right,  as  the  saying  goes,"  said  the  stocky  man. 

"What's  this  anyway — a  camp-meeting?" 
asked  an  officious  young  chap,  as  he  arose  to  stir 
the  fire. 

"That's  right,  kick,  you  nut,"  the  stubby  man 


52  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

replied.  "That's  all  some  people  can  do.  Noth- 
ing wrenches  a  man  like  kicking  at  nothing.  I 
suppose  you  do  it  to  keep  in  trim.  And  don't  stir 
the  fire  that  way." 

"  Stir  it  yourself  then,"  the  man  retorted. 

"  I'm  not  a  yell  leader,  old  sport,  but  I  have 
heard  say  when  a  man  knows  his  business,  he 
don't  go  around  explaining  to  people  that  he  does. 
It's  what  a  man  thinks  he  knows  that  he  brags 
about,  as  the  saying  goes.  When  a  guy  needs  a 
word  with  ten  syllables  to  describe  his  profes- 
sion, put  it  down  he's  a  corn  doctor.  It's  the  fel- 
low that  puts  on  the  most  airs  that  knows  the 
least.  Here,  let  your  uncle  build  the  fire  for  you, 
little  man ;  you're  tired  out  trying  to  rest." 

Thus,  far  into  the  night  the  men  talked,  smoked 
and  argued.  Creighton  offered  them  work,  but 
this  was  declined  unanimously  and  with  thanks. 

"  Not  for  mine,  old  top,"  said  an  indolent  fel- 
low as  he  rolled  himself  in  his  blanket.  "  Deal  me 
the  mountains  for  a  regular  home-meeting." 

When,  late  in  the  night,  Creighton  returned  to 
the  camp,  he  was  accompanied  by  Swen,  whom  he 
had  recognized  and  who  had  recognized  him  when 
they  were  in  the  group  earlier  in  the  evening. 


V 

THE  NORMAN 

"    A       VESSEL  in  every  way  well   found," 

yL-k  read  the  Inspector's  Certificate  that 
«•*-  -^  hung  in  the  salon  entrance  of  the  Nor- 
man. But  this  was  only  a  part  of  the  truth.  The 
Norman  had  been  condemned  as  unseaworthy,  had 
been  overhauled,  painted  up,  and  brought  out  un- 
der a  different  name. 

Commanded  by  Captain  Knight,  she  was  sail- 
ing on  her  way  home  around  the  cape.  She  was 
now  in  the  Mediterranean,  and  Quinn  was  expect- 
ing to  make  connections  soon  with  transportation 
that  would  bring  him  to  the  main  objective  of  his 
journey. 

Most  of  the  passengers  were  prospectors  return- 
ing from  the  South  African  gold  fields.  Some  of 
them  were  real  miners,  but  for  the  most  part  they 
were  a  rough  gang,  coarse  of  speech  and  irrever- 
ent. 

The  ship's  list  showed  a  various  lot  of  passen- 
gers; Greeks,  Jews  and  Americans  among  them, 
and  the  occupations  were  as  varied  as  the  nations. 

The  journey  was  now  half  over.  Between 
•whiles,  the  miners  beguiled  themselves  reviewing 
their  experiences.  Several  of  them  had  "  struck  it 
rich,"  but  most  of  them  were  failures.  They 

53 


64  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEBT  CEEIGHTON 

would  lean  over  the  taffrail,  watch  the  flying  fish 
and  dolphins,  and  look  for  passing  ships. 

One  albatross  had  followed  them  for  days,  ap- 
parently sleeping  on  the  wind  and  unaffected  by 
the  storm. 

On  occasion,  schools  of  porpoise  arose  in  shoals 
almost  covering  the  sea. 

A  small  company  of  miners  had  gathered  near 
the  center  of  the  skylight  above  the  sailors'  bunk- 
room,  discussing  a  fight  that  had  taken  place  over 
a  card  game. 

Quinn  had  just  finished  dressing  the  wounds  of 
the  man  who  had  beaten  his  assailant. 

In  a  cage  over  the  entrance  to  the  sailors'  hatch- 
way, a  parrot  was  bobbing  up  and  down  and  sing- 
ing, "  Trum-de-dum,  te-dum-de-dum,"  then  call- 
ing, "  Kitty,  Kitty,  Kitty  " ;  then  in  deeper  tones 
it  would  exclaim,  "  Come  shake  hands  with  your 
daddy." 

An  Irish  woman  of  vigorous  mind  had  left  the 
piano  and,  joining  the  company  around  the  parrot, 
said,  "  Not  a  felly  aboard  wid  th'  ear  of  a  bat  for 
music ! "  when  two  of  the  stewards  appeared, 
carrying  one  of  the  passengers  who  was  slowly  re- 
covering from  a  serious  illness.  Quinn  had  or- 
dered him  on  deck.  The  stewards  placed  him 
gently  in  a  steamer  chair  and  tucked  a  blanket 
cozily  around  him. 

"  You  poor  lad,"  said  the  woman,  squaring  her- 
self in  front  of  the  boy,  "  how  bad  you  look,  and 


THE  NOEMAN  55 

you  haven't  a  soul  on  board  the  ship  for  a  friend, 
they  tell  me.  You  look  ahful  bad,  you  do.  I 
never  saw  but  one  funeral  at  sea,  and  I  felt  so  bad 
that  if  inny  body  had  patted  the  back  in  me,  it 
would  'ave  made  me  cry.  It  was  a  sad  sight! 
They  took  him,  put  him  on  a  plank,  cased  him  in 
canvas,  and  after  the  service,  they  slid  him  over 
the  side  into  the  sea  wid  a  plunge.  I  can  hear  it 
yet,  and  see  the  water  bubblin'  as  it  closed  up  the 

openin'.  He  was  young,  too "  she  was  about 

to  add  when  Quinn  interposed: 

"  Well,  son,  you'll  be  feeling  better  now.  We 
are  going  to  make  a  sailor  of  you.  There  is  a  sail 
just  ahead  coming  our  way.  We'll  pass  each  other 
in  an  hour.  Watch  her  and  see  if  you  can  tell  me 
what  liner  she  is  from  the  colours  on  the  stack." 

The  nuns,  in  a  corner  by  themselves,  were  read- 
ing. 

Leaning  on  the  railing  at  the  stern  of  the  vessel, 
his  back  turned  toward  the  changing  scenes  on 
deck,  Quinn  presently  was  apparently  indifferent 
to  everything  that  was  going  on  about  him.  Pos- 
sibly his  mysterious  mission,  mysterious  to  him- 
self as  yet,  was  the  subject  of  his  meditations.  All 
that  he  knew  was — that  the  trust  company  had 
given  him  a  letter  to  one  Roberts,  to  be  found  on 
the  Isle  of  Patmos.  His  cap  was  drawn  far  down 
over  his  eyes.  He  did  not  notice  the  approach  of 
a  woman,  a  ship-acquaintance  of  his,  nor  was  he 
aware  that  she  was  standing  at  his  side  watching 


56  VINDICATION  OF  ROBERT  CEEIGHTON 

the  waves  that  were  beginning  to  be  covered  here 
and  there  with  caps.  The  wind  had  been  playing 
with  the  streamers  and  swelling  the  sails,  and  now 
blew  a  gale.  The  sun  was  sending  its  last  flashes 
of  light  along  the  evening  sky,  and  tipping  the 
storm  clouds  that  were  gathering  in  the  distance 
with  an  underslope  of  gold  and  purple. 

"  And  is  this  really  your  last  trip  ? "  asked  the 
woman,  a  missionary.  "  I  think  you  said  as  much 
the  other  day — that  it  would  be,  unless  you  fail 
this  time  in  some  mission  you  spoke  of.  I  should 
think  it  would  be  difficult  for  a  man  like  you  to 
say  good-bye  to  the  sea.  It  is  so  elemental,  so 
universal ! " 

"  Very  true,"  Quinn  replied.  "  There  are  just 
three  places  a  man  finds  himself — in  the  desert, 
on  a  mountain,  and  under  the  stars  at  mid  ocean; 
it  is  hard  to  choose  between  the  three,  so  I  take 
them  all,  by  turns.  What  I  can't  understand  is, 
why  you  are  planning  to  go  back  to  live  amid  the 
surroundings  you  were  describing  the  other  day. 
I  hope  you  will  change  your  mind." 

The  expression  in  her  face  answered  Ouinn's 
question.  She  saw  that  he  had  little  faith  in  mis- 
sionary labours.  His  religious  faith  was  a  plant 
of  slow  growth. 

"  Oh,  we  shall  go  back.  Our  only  regret  is  that 
you  will  not  be  the  ship's  physician  on  the  return 
trip.  But  with  you,  or  without  you,  we  shall  go 
back." 


THE  NOKMAN  57 

"  But  you  ran  for  your  lives ! "  replied  Quinn. 
"  Those  blacks  are  brutes,  and  they  ought  to  be 
left  to  perish  off  the  face  of  the  earth." 

"  They  may  seem  little  better  than  brutes,"  re- 
plied the  woman.  "  And  we  were  exposed  to  dan- 
gers, and  we  used  unheard-of  methods  to  gain 
their  confidence,  but  we  must  not  leave  them  to 
themselves.  They  are  children  in  understand- 
ing. They  are,  for  the  most  part,  superstitious 
and  brutal,  but  they  have  a  faith  in  the  super- 
natural; and  this,  in  itself,  shows  that  they  are 
not  altogether  brutes,  incapable  of  knowing 
God. 

"  We  begin  with  the  children,"  she  continued. 
"  We  organize  the  school,  the  hospital.  We 
preach,  teach,  and  heal  the  sick,  and  try,  by  show- 
ing them  a  Christian  home,  what  constitutes  Chris- 
tian living.  The  one  thing  the  world  needs  is  good 
men  and  women,  faithful  husbands,  devoted  wives, 
happy  children,  generous  masters,  obedient  serv- 
ants, prophets,  apostles,  heroes.  How  is  this  con- 
dition to  be  brought  about?  Are  you  going  to 
leave  a  people  to  themselves  and  say,  in  effect — 
we  are  all  animals  placed  in  this  cage  of  the  world, 
we  are  slowly  evolving,  some  are  strong,  some  are 
weak,  but  in  the  struggle  the  weak  must  perish? 
The  tears  and  groans  of  the  perishing  will  make 
good  soil  in  which  to  cultivate  a  nobler  species, 
and  in  the  course  of  the  ages,  the  world  will  be 
peopled  with  a  tribe  of  superior  men." 


58  VINDICATION  OF  BOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

At  the  mention  of  schools,  Quinn  assumed  a 
different  attitude.  He  thought  of  the  evening  in 
Rock  Room,  and  the  happy  children  there.  He 
listened  attentively  as  the  woman  set  forth  the 
needs  and  opportunities  of  work  among  the  chil- 
dren. They,  at  least,  were  worthy.  Here  was 
good  material  to  work  with.  "  Why  not  build  a 
children's  hospital  ?  "  he  found  himself  musing. 
Then  suddenly  he  said : 

"  There  is  so  much  troubled  thinking  these  days 
that  mental  repose  seems,  for  the  most  part,  the 
property  of  the  ignorant  and  the  unthinking. 
Don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  No,  nor  do  I  think  the  spring  of  two  thou- 
sand years  of  Christian  heroism  is  a  myth.  Cults 
and  philosophies  do  well  enough  on  paper,  but 
where  is  the  nation  they  have  healed?  " 

"  Few  people  study  the  deeper  questions  of  re- 
ligion. Christian  philosophy  sleeps  for  them  in 
the  book.  They  withdraw  all  nourishment  from 
that  part  of  their  being  that  discriminates  and 
elaborates  the  spiritual,  although  they  know  well 
enough  that  the  constant  disuse  of  an  organ  des- 
troys it,  and  while  they  are  capable  enough  in 
many  ways,  they  are  themselves  a  glaring  example 
of  the  mistake  and  mischief  of  imperfect  educa- 
tion." 

"  And  so  you  do  not  fear  for  your  faith  ? " 
Quinn  asked: 

"  No,  I  am  not  afraid.     As  well  try  to  wrestle 


THE  NOEMAN  69 

with  the  lightning!  I  am  not  afraid  that  the 
lightning  will  be  destroyed,  but  what  of  the  hand 
that  tries  to  clutch  it?" 

This  last  remark  was  suggested  by  peculiar 
lights  that  were  playing  in  the  sky.  So  engrossed 
had  they  been,  that  before  they  knew  it,  the  Nor- 
man was  heading  for  a  storm.  As  they  turned, 
they  saw  that  the  heavens  were  filled  with  con- 
fusion. Clouds  were  approaching  in  troops,  com- 
panies and  reserves.  They  plunged  headlong 
through  the  gathering  darkness.  They  collided 
in  mid-air.  They  staggered  across  the  waters. 

"  We're  gettin'  it  in  the  teeth,"  said  one  of  the 
sailors. 

"  Aye,  without  comment,"  said  another,  as  he 
pulled  his  hat  down  on  his  head. 

Two  of  them  had  gone  out  on  the  boom  to  lash 
the  canvas,  and  as  a  sea  struck  the  Norman,  she 
plunged  ahead,  sending  canvas  and  sailors  through 
the  waters.  The  boom  headed  under  the  water, 
and  when  the  Norman  righted  herself,  a  sailor 
was  gone.  Angered  by  the  tragedy,  an  old  mate 
rolled  back  his  sleeves  and  took  the  place  of  the 
missing  man. 

"  Easy,  mates,"  he  said  to  the  sailors,  "  hold 
hard!" 

"Can  you  hold  her?"  the  Captain  asked  the 
man  at  the  wheel. 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir !  "  came  the  reply. 

Spar  and  rigging  swung  through  the  gloom  like 


prison  bars.  From  the  yards,  the  torn  canvas 
hung  and  streamed.  Over  the  sea  through  a  flood, 
the  Norman  plunged  in  her  effort  to  ride  above  the 
waters  that  overwhelmed  her.  The  storm  smote 
her  sides.  It  pounded  her  through  the  gloom.  It 
burst  over  her  in  the  triumph  of  utter  defiance. 

There  are  times  when  a  sailor  needs  all  of  his 
strength.  At  such  times  the  real  man  stands  re- 
vealed. The  two  hundred  passengers  were  di- 
vided— on  the  one  hand,  into  a  group  of  manly 
men  and  courageous  women;  and  on  the  other,  a 
small  company — a  few  cowards. 

Some  of  the  men  were  praying.  They  bar- 
gained with  Heaven,  promising  service  in  return 
for  deliverance. 

"  Shut  your  face !  Can't  you  cut  out  the  hol- 
ler ? "  cried  a  sailor.  "  What  you  been  doin' 
you're  so  afraid  to  die?  God  Almighty  won't 
plug  up  a  ship  for  the  likes  of  you.  Here,  get  busy 
with  those  belts !  " 

The  Captain  had  ordered  the  usual  rockets  to  be 
fired,  signals  of  distress,  but  he  knew  how  little 
they  availed.  "  The  weather's  too  thick,"  he  said, 
as  the  rockets  went  whizzing  through  the  sky, 
leaving  nothing  but  darkness  behind  them. 

By  this  time  the  Norman  had  sprung  a  leak, 
her  seams  were  opening,  and  she  was  filling.  The 
sea  was  gaining  on  the  pumps.  The  sailors  were 
swinging  out  the  life-boats  and  getting  the  rafts 
ready  for  disembarking,  going  about  their  work 


THE  NOEMAN  61 

in  a  matter-of-fact  manner,  nerved  to  meet  their 
fate,  if  meet  it  they  must,  in  a  way  worthy  of 
men. 

The  Captain  assured  the  passengers  that  all 
would  be  safely  landed. 

No  sooner  had  arrangements  been  made  than 
one  of  the  miners,  already  casually  mentioned, 
crowded  to  the  front. 

Quinn  had  been  stationed  at  the  point  where 
the  boat  was  being  lowered.  As  the  miner  plunged 
forward,  pushing  the  women  aside,  Quinn  was  at 
him  and,  despising  the  use  of  a  weapon  upon  the 
creature,  seized  him  by  the  throat,  threw  him 
down  and  dragged  him  to  one  side  of  the  deck. 

"  Shove  off,"  shouted  the  Captain,  as  one  after 
another  of  the  life-boats  were  filled,  and  faded  out 
of  sight  in  the  darkness. 

Now  the  ship  was  listing  and  the  remaining 
sailors  with  her.  "  No  boat  can  live  in  a  sea  like 
this,"  one  of  them  remarked,  as  a  wave  knocked 
him  over  and  washed  him  about.  Presently  the 
engines  silenced.  A  fog  sponged  out  the  lights. 
When  the  last  life-boat  drew  away  from  the  side 
of  the  Norman,  only  Quinn  and  the  Captain  re- 
mained. 

One  of  the  wonders  of  life  is  the  mind  of  a 
man  in  hours  of  danger.  Emotion  overwhelms! 
Panic  and  helplessness  ensue!  If  the  fears  that 
clamour  for  recognition  are  held  back  by  intelli- 
gence, even  though  they  cry  for  a  hearing,  intelli- 


62  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEBT  CEEIGHTON 

gence  controls.  It  would  seem  that  the  function 
of  the  brain  is  not  only  to  let  us  remember — 
one  can't  help  doing  that;  but  to  let  us  forget. 
And  Quinn  "  forgot."  He  never  once  thought  of 
himself.  But  now  that  the  life-boats  were  filled, 
he  thought  of  Jean;  he  hoped  she  would  sorrow 
without  suffering. 

He  remembered  the  day  when  something  seemed 
to  say  to  him,  "  She's  the  one !  "  and  he  remem- 
bered how  he  had  loved  her  then.  He  thought  of 
the  many  times  he  had  seen  her  at  work  making 
trifles  for  their  home.  She  would  play  and  sing, 
and  then  she  would  pick  up  her  work  again,  and 
stitch  in  a  world  of  love  with  that  precious 
needle.  Yes,  they  were  happy  days — all  too  few 
— lived,  as  they  were,  in  anticipation  of  what  was 
to  be.  All  this  had  flashed  through  Quinn's  mind. 
He  was  aware  of  no  other  thought.  Then  sud- 
denly he  felt  himself  lifted  from  his  feet,  and  he 
plunged,  he  and  the  Captain  and  the  Norman,  into 
the  depths  of  the  sea.  Death  was  there.  In  a  lit- 
tle while,  floating  planks,  pieces  of  the  bridge  and 
the  wheel  house,  along  with  a  few  life-preservers, 
were  all  that  remained  of  the  Norman. 


VI 
A  MILLION-DOLLAR  PROJECT 

WORK   in   the   construction   camps   was 
now  going  forward  with  good  results. 
Roads   had   been   built;    supplies   and 
stores  of  every  kind  were  on  hand;  tent-houses, 
with  comfortable  bunks  for  the  men,  had  been  se- 
cured ;  a  large  dining-room  and  a  first  class  motion 
picture  outfit  kept  the  men  contented  and  increased 
their  interest  in  the  work. 

When  the  reports  of  the  research  work  were 
presented,  the  Board  of  Supervisors  were  at  once 
impressed  with  the  fact  that  Creighton  was  big 
enough  to  deal  with  this  problem,  and  they  had 
engaged  him  as  superintendent  of  the  entire  proj- 
ect. 

'  There  are  five  things,"  said  Creighton,  "  we 
must  keep  in  mind: 

'  The  water  for  the  cities  in  the  valley  must  be 
assured ;  industrial  development  must  be  made  pos- 
sible by  generating  electricity;  we  must  conserve 
and  impound  the  storm  water  in  reservoirs,  run  it 
along  lateral  ditches,  and  irrigate  the  valley;  we 
must  control  the  flood  waters  to  prevent  annual 

63 


64  VINDICATION  OF  BOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

damage;  and  last,  we  must  divert  the  silt  that  is 
now  washing  down  and  filling  up  the  harbour." 

This  was  the  substance  of  Creighton's  report. 
He  had  investigated  every  foot  of  ground  along 
the  trail,  and  had  consulted  pioneers  and  prospect- 
ors, comparing  their  experiences  with  the  results 
of  scientific  investigations  and  professional  skill. 

"  How  about  those  check  dams  far  up  in  the 
mountains  ?  "  asked  some  one,  pointing  to  the  blue- 
prints. 

"  Those/'  said  Creighton,  "  are  to  be  put  in  as 
indicated  to  hold  back  the  rain,  and  so  help  to 
spread  the  water  over  wide  areas.  It  will  thus 
seep  through  and  reinforce  the  growth  of  shrub- 
bery and  trees.  This  is  essential  to  the  success  of 
our  project.  As  the  water  seeps  into  the  crevices, 
it  will  lay  the  foundation  for  extensive  reforesta- 
tion. We  must  make  these  mountains  a  vast 
sponge  to  absorb  as  much  of  the  rainfall  as  they 
can.  If  we  do  this,  they  will  pay  huge  dividends 
in  water  and  verdure." 

"  You  were  speaking  a  moment  ago,"  said  one 
of  the  supervisors,  "  of  diverting  some  of  the 
water  along  the  foothills  by  means  of  lateral 
ditches." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Creighton,  "  this  can  easily  be 
done,  and  should  be  undertaken  at  once.  We  must 
have  three  camps:  one  to  work  on  the  big  dam 
that  will  make  possible  the  reservoir;  another  to 
work  on  the  check  dams,  and  drill  the  tunnel 


A  MILLION-DOLLAB  PEOJEOT  65 

! 

through  which  the  water  must  flow  in  order  to 
generate  the  electricity;  and  the  third  camp 
should  construct  the  lateral  ditches  and  line  their 
banks  with  trees. 

"  The  banks  of  the  ditches  and  the  river  must 
have  a  second  reinforcement  in  the  shape  of  a 
double  embankment.  Higher  up,  and  further 
back,  trees  must  be  planted.  This  second  check 
must  be  held  by  double  rows  of  locust  and  willow 
trees,  and  still  further  back  by  another  row  of  live 
oak,  and  between  these  rows  of  trees,  a  macadam- 
ized highway  must  be  built.  This  river  will  give 
us  a  safe  outlet  for  the  storm  water,  and  the  high- 
way will  be  a  splendid  road  from  the  mountains 
to  the  sea. 

"  That  constitutes  your  problem,  gentlemen.  It 
will  cost  a  million  dollars.  But  if  you  put  it 
through,  you  have  a  Paradise:  if  we  can  get  the 
cooperation  of  the  men,  we  can  keep  the  snakes 
out.  I've  been  all  over  the  globe,  and  I  tell  you 
there  is  nothing  like  this  combination  of  mountain 
and  valley  anywhere  on  the  planet." 

Meanwhile,  Beth  and  her  Aunt  Miriam  were 
having  a  heart  talk.  Beth  sat  on  the  grass,  Aunt 
Miriam  in  the  hammock. 

Aunt  Miriam  had  noted  that  things  were  not 
going  smoothly,  and  as  Beth  poured  out  her  heart, 
she  listened  attentively.  Beth  always  went  to  her 
aunt  with  important  questions,  when  she  was  up 
against  hard  things,  and  she  always  found  in  the 


66  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

motherly  broad-bosomed  woman  a  fine  relief. 
Aunt  Miriam  would  listen,  cry  with  her  gently, 
wipe  away  the  tears  from  Beth's  eyes,  and  send 
her  out  along  the  right  path.  For  Aunt  Miriam 
was  known  far  and  wide  as  the  kind  of  woman 
who  would  willingly  squander  her  strength  on  a 
friend  in  adversity.  She  was  an  extravagant 
spendthrift  of  emotional  sympathy,  a  fine  bad 
weather  friend.  Often  she  helped  women  in  their 
trouble,  and  on  occasion,  she  had  been  known  to 
take  a  man  by  the  ear  and  straighten  him  out. 

With  the  years,  Aunt  Miriam  had  grown  fat, 
but  she  had  pretty  hands  and  dainty  wrists,  and 
there  was  always  a  curious,  laughing  flicker  in  her 
eyes. 

"  You  don't  need  preaching  to,  Beth,"  Aunt 
Miriam  said.  "  What  you  need,  my  dear,  is  peace 
of  mind,  and  that  can't  be  got  the  way  you're  go- 
ing after  it.  Remember  the  little  church  out  on 
the  edge  of  the  desert — windows  broken,  door 
gone,  sand  piled  in  drifts  right  up  where  the  altar 
stood  ?  People's  hearts  get  like  that  if  they  aren't 
careful ;  empty — drifted  up  with  dust  and  grit,  the 
fire  of  love  smothered.  Then  they  go  off  on  all 
sorts  of  excursions  trying  to  get  satisfaction  out 
of  substitutes.  Of  course  they  get  bitter,  rebel- 
lious, disappointed,  wrecked." 

After  an  impressive  pause,  Aunt  Miriam  con- 
tinued, "  As  I  look  back  through  the  years,  it 
seems  to  me  as  if  I'd  lived  three  lives.  When  my 


A  MILLION-DOLLAR  PEOJECT  67 

father  died,  I  was  about  your  age,"  and  she  looked 
at  Beth.  "  When  my  father  died,  I  was  a  spoiled 
child,  the  popular  daughter  of  a  successful  man,  in 
a  little  town  place.  Then  I  had  to  start  to  make 
money  to  keep  myself  going,  so  I  taught.  I  had 
a  lover — we  became  engaged.  He  was  forced  to 
go  away  for  over  a  year,  and  we  grew  apart. 
Then  it  came  to  me  that  he  was  a  stranger  to  me — 
that  I  didn't  know  him.  I  did  not  marry  him;  I 
thought  I  loved  another  man.  Finally  I  came  to 
keep  house  for  your  father,  and  here  I  am." 

After  another  pause,  Aunt  Miriam  said,  "  When 
Duke  went  away  the  other  evening,  I  heard  him 
say,  *  She's  a  funny  girl.'  I've  been  thinking  that 
over,  Beth,  and  I've  just  about  made  up  my  mind 
that  Duke  is  right  about  you." 

Then,  as  if  she  were  living  over  again  at  second 
hand  her  days  of  courtship  in  Beth's  experience, 
Aunt  Miriam  said,  "  Beth,  you  mustn't  think  that 
because  Duke  is  good  mannered,  that  he's  weak. 
I  remember  one  day  hearing  you  laugh  at  one  of 
his  courtesies.  You've  lived  in  the  wilderness, 
Beth,  till  you've  forgotten  how  a  well-brought  up 
man  ought  to  behave.  Goodness!  When  you're 
as  old  as  I  am,  things  that  look  big  to  you  now 
will  look  mighty  small.  Duke  isn't  the  sort  of  man 
you  can  hold  a  whip  hand  over.  You've  been  so 
much  in  the  company  of  the  men  that  you've 
learned  their  ways,  and  you  unconsciously  copy 
them.  Sometimes  you  walk  with  the  swing  of  an 


68  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

old  time  rider,  accustomed  to  the  saddle.  When 
you  were  a  little  girl,  that  was  cute;  but,  Beth, 
you're  not  a  child  now,  and  you  don't  want  to  try 
to  be  too  chummy  with  them.  A  man  don't  like 
that  in  a  woman.  Your  dad  used  to  call  all  of  the 
men  by  their  first  names,  and  you  learned  to  do  it 
when  you  were  young,  but  you  mustn't  do  it  now. 
Nice  men  won't  know  what  to  think  of  it.  I  re- 
member the  day  you  ran  away — you  were  four — 
and  we  found  you  sitting  on  the  bar  in  the  saloon, 
eating  a  sandwich,  and  laughing  and  talking  with 
the  men.  Now  you  make  a  vain  show  when  a 
fine  young  fellow  like  Duke  comes  along.  Don't 
do  it.  I'd  be  sorry  to  see  you  lose  Duke — you're 
trifling  with  him — and  you're  in  danger  of  doing 
it." 

As  Aunt  Miriam  talked,  a  fragrance  came  float- 
ing on  the  air.  The  day  was  warm,  and  as  the 
water  played  on  the  garden,  its  freshness  released 
the  perfume  from  the  flowers  and  filled  the  air 
with  delight. 

"  Beth,"  Aunt  Miriam  said,  as  she  arose,  "  I'd 
hate  awfully  to  see  you  make  the  mistake  I  made. 
Keep  the  dew  of  your  womanhood  on  your  soul. 
It  will  make  you  strong,  keep  you  sweet,  and  help 
you  to  sing  through  the  days.  There  isn't  any 
substitute  for  it." 

And  presently,  as  Duke  came  up  the  trail,  he 
found  Beth,  slightly  humbled  in  spirit  from  her 
aunt's  talk,  waiting  at  the  cabin  for  him. 


A  MILLION-DOLLAE  PEOJECT          69 

Together,  they  watched  the  sunset,  and  as  the 
conversation  reverted  to  the  camp  and  the  work, 
Duke  told  her  of  the  directors'  meeting. 

Beth  had  little  to  say. 

Presently,  Duke  lifted  an  abalone  shell  from  the 
porch  rail  and  called  her  attention  to  its  beauty. 
Together,  they  traced  the  milk  and  fire  that 
blended  like  changing  glory  in  the  heart  of  an  opal. 
"  Look  at  the  lavender,  the  blue,  the  sea- foam 
green,  the  amethyst,  purple,  gold,  jasper,  ruby! 
It's  all  there,  isn't  it  ?  "  he  cried.  "  But  it  was 
hidden  until  Sam  told  you  to  boil  it  in  ashes,  and 
polishing  it  with  emery  and  oil !  " 

"  Like  me !  "  Beth  answered.  "  Aunt  Miriam 
says  I  need  polishing." 

Tears  filled  her  eyes.  Finally  she  said,  "  I've 
just  had  a  talk  with  Aunt  Miriam.  I  wish  Dad 
were  here !  I  remember  how  he  used  to  say,  '  My 
little  girl,  the  way  you  do  things  doesn't  count  es- 
pecially ;  just  think  about  the  right  thing  until  you 
want  to  do  it,  and  then  if  you  do  it  long  enough, 
you  get  your  hand  in  and  just  do  it  without  think- 
ing— natural-like.'  And  he  used  to  say,  *  You 
don't  have  to  go  through  life  keeping  from  doing 
a  lot  of  things  you  want  to  do,  to  sit  in  a  future 
heaven.  You  don't  have  to  eat  dry  bread  here  to 
get  it  buttered  there.  What  we  have  to  do/  he 
said,  '  is  a  fairly  decent  day's  work,  say  our 
prayers,  be  happy  now,  and  merge  our  life  and  in- 
fluence in  the  great  on-flowing  stream  of  human 


70  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

progress.'  I  wish  I  could  have  a  good  talk  with 
Dad!" 

As  Beth  concluded,  they  walked  to  the  end  of 
the  pergola  and,  taking  a  chair  beside  her,  Duke 
looked  straight  into  her  eyes  and  said,  "  Beth,  I 
want  to  talk  to  you,  and  you  must  hear  me 
through.  Creighton  has  been  appointed  superin- 
tendent of  the  engineering  project.  He  told  me 
that  he  might  be  called  away  any  time  for  a  while, 
and  that  he  wanted  me  to  be  ready  to  keep  things 
going  during  his  absence.  I'm  all  right  as  far  as 
my  job  is  concerned.  But  there's  another  side  to 
my  life.  We  men  write,  invent,  make  fortunes, 
not  for  ourselves,  but  for  some  one  we  love." 

Beth  trembled  a  little.  She  avoided  Duke's 
eyes.  But  Duke  took  her  hand  in  his  and  she  lis- 
tened as  he  asked  her  the  question  which,  more 
than  any  other  question  that  ever  was  asked,  thrills 
the  heart  of  a  woman.  He  knew  he  could  take 
care  of  her,  and  he  felt  sure  they  would  be  happy, 
and,  unfolding  a  piece  of  paper  and  giving  Beth  a 
pencil,  he  said: 

"  Let's  sketch  the  plans  of  our  new  home." 

"  Mercy !  You're  not  thinking  of  building !  " 
Beth  exclaimed. 

"  I  am,  that  is  to  say — we  are.  You're  to  make 
the  plans,  superintend  the  job,  and  I'll  do  the 
work." 

"  Castles  in  the  air !  " 

"  I've  built  them,  and  I'm  going  to  keep  on,  but 
now  I'm  going  to  build  on  the  ground." 


A  MILLION-DOLLAB  PKOJECT  71 

"  Not  a  big  house,  I  hope,"  said  Beth.  "  I'll  not 
promise  to  manage  it,  if  it  is!  I  love  this,"  lift- 
ing her  eyes  and  looking  around  the  cabin. 
"  When  Dad  gave  up  the  big  house  in  the  city,  I 
was  the  happiest  girl  you  ever  saw.  I  used  to  tell 
him  that  all  he  was  doing  anyway  was  just  run- 
ning a  big  nigger  boarding-house.  That  sort  of 
life  is  downright  slavery.  I'm  strong  for  the 
cabin."  Then  noting  a  puzzled  look  in  Duke's 
face,  she  went  on,  "  I  know  what  you're  saying  to 
yourself.  You're  saying,  '  What  will  people 
think?'  Who  cares  what  they  think!  If  this  is 
what  we  want,  why  can't  we  have  it  ?  " 

It  was  just  here  that  Creighton  saw  them. 
After  his  report,  Creighton  had  gone  for  a  walk 
in  the  open.  At  first  he  had  experienced  a  sense 
of  satisfaction,  then  he  said  to  himself  as  he 
walked  along,  "  It's  all  in  the  day's  work,"  and  he 
was  tempted  to  bitterness :  "  Was  anything  worth 
while!" 

Thus  he  walked  in  the  gloaming,  and  looking  up 
at  the  afterglow  of  pink  that  was  streaming  across 
the  hills,  he  noted  the  smoky  haze  in  the  deep  re- 
cesses, and  before  he  knew  it,  he  saw  before  him 
Duke  and  Beth,  all  unconscious  that  any  human 
eyes  were  upon  them. 

"  Dreaming  and  making  plans ! "  Creighton 
said  to  himself;  "  they  go  together!  "  He  remem- 
bered how  he,  too,  had  dreamed  his  dream  of  hap- 
piness, and  how  he  had  planned.  For  the  moment 
he  was  quieted.  Then  he  felt  the  indignity  of  the 


72  VINDICATION  OF  BOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

flings  that  passers-by  had  thrown  upon  him  once 
when,  weary  and  despairing,  he  met  the  vulgar 
criticism  that  falls  upon  a  man  in  shoddy  clothes. 
He  saw  Beth  and  Duke  talking  intimately,  he  felt 
the  need  of  comradeship,  for  even  though  he  had 
been  given  full  charge  of  the  work,  he  felt  a  re- 
bound of  suspicion,  of  inquiry.  The  directors  had 
asked  no  questions,  but  he  felt  that  they  wanted 
to  know  more.  He  would  not  lie — he  could  not 
tell!- 

Then  suddenly  he  felt  as  if  he  wanted  to  tell 
the  world.  He  could  survive  the  furnace!  Is  it 
true  that  it  makes  no  difference  if  only  you  cover 
up  your  tracks — if  only  you  are  clever?  He  used 
to  think  that  he  never  knew  the  hour  when  he  did 
not  know  what  to  do,  when  he  wanted  help.  But 
that  was  in  the  days  when  he  had  won  the  love  of 
his  wife.  From  the  moment  he  saw  her,  he  loved 
her  unceasingly.  Her  love  made  him  strong.  She 
always  gave  the  deciding  vote.  When  a  question 
came  up,  she  would  sit  back  as  if  saying — "  What 
do  you  think !  "  But  he  would  give  the  answer — 
as  he  thought  she  would  have  him !  Now  he  was 
at  the  spiritual  breaking  point  with  worry  and  de- 
ciding. He  felt  he  could  carry  the  burden  if  he 
had  her  to  look  to.  Self-sufficient  as  he  had  al- 
ways felt  himself  with  her,  now  that  she  was  gone, 
the  time  had  come  when  he,  too,  must  turn  to 
some  one  else  for  help;  some  one  to  stand  beside 
him  and  lift  his  hands  until  the  battle  ended. 

How  blessed  such  help  had  been  from  her !    He 


A  MILUON-DOLLAE  PEOJECT  73 

remembered  how,  on  opening  the  door  of  his 
home,  he  always  asked — "Where  are  you,  Anna?" 
and  she  would  always  call  back — "  Yes,  Bob!  " 

But  here  he  was  alone — slinking  through  life, 
his  name  tarnished.  He,  who  never  once  had 
rolled  his  spirit  in  the  mire,  was  going  blackened 
through  the  days!  Even  the  knowledge  of  his 
own  uprightness  could  not  take  away  the  heart- 
break he  felt. 

When  again  he  lifted  his  eyes,  Beth  and  Duke 
had  disappeared  into  the  house.  It  was  supper 
time. 

There  stood  the  cabin  before  the  mountains, 
framed  in  the  sunset,  the  trees  and  flowers  blend- 
ing their  beauty  and  fragrance  in  the  changing 
colour  of  the  day's  closing  hour.  He  heard  the 
faint  murmur  of  the  falls.  The  music  sent  a 
thrilling  wave  through  his  blood.  In  the  fir  trees 
overhead,  he  heard  the  twitter  and  rustle  of  birds 
settling  for  the  night.  All  about  him  were  the 
glory  and  wonder  of  life,  and  he  felt  a  desire  to 
call  back  his  appreciation  of  the  grandeur  with 
which  he  found  himself  surrounded.  The  land- 
scape became  vocal — silence  became  speech !  Why 
must  there  be  so  many  discordant  notes!  Nature 
is  eloquent,  wonderful,  beneficent!  Why  can't  we 
make  human  nature  equally  blessed  ? 

"  I  guess  it  is,  in  spots,"  Creighton  concluded, 
as  he  looked  once  more  toward  the  cabin. 


VII 
WHAT  DREAMS  ARE  MADE  OF 

THE  Norman  went  down  on  a  night  when 
the  very  elements  seemed  to  be  at  war. 
The  wind  howled  over  the  water,  gather- 
ing fury  as  it  came.  In  the  darkness,  the  life- 
boats were  separated.  It  was  long  past  midnight 
when  a  flicker  in  the  distance  caught  the  keen  eye 
of  a  sailor.  He  knew  its  meaning.  The  word 
from  him  was  enough  to  cheer  brave  fellows  at  the 
oars  whose  hearts  were  breaking  under  the  strain. 
Again  the  light  came,  and  the  sailor,  awaiting  its 
reappearance,  answered  it  with  a  flashlight — a 
rocket  of  distress  —  another,  and  still  another. 
Back  came  the  signal  to  lay  to  and  hold  out,  and 
in  a  few  hours  all  the  occupants  of  the  different 
boats  were  landed  on  the  deck  of  an  Oriental 
steamer,  rescued  from  the  very  verge  of  death — 
all  but  the  men  on  one  raft,  commanded  by  the 
purser.  The  Captain  and  the  Doctor,  everybody 
said,  had  gone  down  with  the  ship,  refusing  to 
abandon  her. 

It  had  seemed  to  Ouinn,  drawn  down  by  the 
suction  of  the  sinking  ship,  that  he  would  never 
come  up  again.  He  never  understood  how  it  was 

74 


WHAT  DEEAMS  AEE  MADE  OF          76 

he  found  himself  floating  among  the  wreckage, 
swimming  with  an  oar.  In  the  darkness,  he  heard 
voices,  but  there  was  no  answer  to  his  call.  As  he 
floated,  he  collided  with  a  plank,  and  clung  to  it, 
relinquishing  the  oar.  After  an  eternity  of  wait- 
ing, a  gray  streak  heralded  the  dawn.  As  the 
light  grew  clearer,  he  could  make  out,  at  no  great 
distance,  the  outline  of  a  raft  with  several  men 
upon  it;  it  was  tossed  by  the  waves  that  now  re- 
vealed and  again  hid  it  from  sight.  Quinn  was 
a  strong  swimmer  and  he  pushed  his  way  through 
the  waters  until  he  reached  the  raft,  pulled  him- 
self out  of  the  sea,  and  as  one  raised  from  the 
dead,  crawled  over  to  where  the  purser  and  his 
men  were  huddled  to  keep  warm. 

With  daylight  came  the  rain.  The  deluge 
seemed  endless.  The  torrent  poured  its  flood  upon 
them.  This,  however,  was  a  blessing,  for  the  rain 
was  warm  and  the  sweet  water  which  the  men 
caught  in  their  hands  and  upon  their  upturned 
faces  allayed  their  thirst.  All  day  they  drifted, 
hoping  against  hope  that  a  passing  ship  would 
sight  them,  but  darkness  came,  and  with  it  a  bit- 
ing wind.  It  was  terrifying — this  clinging  to  life, 
hanging  to  the  raft  as  it  staggered  under  the  stars, 
shuddering  through  the  waters  down  the  dark  blue 
hills  of  sea.  The  wind,  chill  and  bitter,  changed 
the  spray  into  sleet  and  hail  that  chilled  the  men  to 
the  bone.  Some  of  them  muttered  strange  words 
in  their  sleep,  praying  and  cursing  in  turn.  One 


76  VnroiCATICXN^OFjEOBEBT  CEEIGHTON 

of  the  sailors,  in  delirium,  issued  orders  to  make 
any  landsman  pale. 

"  Keep  your  nerve,  young  man,"  one  of  the  sail- 
ors said  to  Quinn.  "  Panic  is  your  enemy.  Keep 
your  nerve.  The  raft  won't  go.  Stick  to  her. 
Here's  my  coat !  I  don't  need  it,"  and  he  slipped 
into  the  water  fainting.  The  great  waves  swept 
him  away.  Out  of  the  depths,  the  hands  of  death 
seemed  visible,  waiting  for  the  rest  of  them  to  pull 
them  in. 

The  agony  of  the  older  men  made  Quinn  forget 
himself.  He  was  battling,  not  only  for  his  own 
life — but  for  these  fellows.  Strong  sailors  they 
were,  who,  whatever  their  faults,  were  not  cow- 
ards, nor  were  they  selfish.  Even  the  sea  seemed 
to  Quinn  to  sigh  in  pity  over  them,  as  the  raft 
was  hurled  down  the  water  when  a  gulf  opened, 
and  they  came  up,  all  but  drowned.  Indeed,  some 
of  the  men  were  missing,  and  after  three  days, 
Quinn  found  himself  with  only  a  solitary  compan- 
ion, who  was  lying  as  if  dead. 

As  a  boy,  Quinn  had  been  taught  to  pray.  There 
on  the  raft,  as  it  rolled  and  twisted,  he  thought  of 
the  cursing  fellows  who  had  cowered  at  the  first 
threat  of  adversity.  Those  who  had  bragged  then 
prayed — on  their  faces,  and  crying  for  mercy. 
The  sailors  had  been  no  saints,  but  they  had 
straightened  up  and  met  the  danger  of  the  hour 
like  men.  Quinn  recalled  a  sermon  he  had  heard 
at  college  when  the  preacher  had  said  that  "  even 


WHAT  DREAMS  AEE  MADE  OF         77 

when  the  prodigal  was  down,  deserted  by  the  men 
who  had  spent  his  money,  he  still  went  on,  trying 
to  fill  himself  with  the  husks  that  the  swine  ate, 
and  it  was  only  when  the  husks  had  failed  that  he 
went  home  penitent!  It  was  all  he  could  do,"  the 
preacher  declared.  "  No  credit  to  him !  "  What 
right  has  a  man  who  is  little  better  than  a  devil, 
whose  mouth  is  black  with  lies,  whose  speech  is 
blasphemy — what  right  has  such  a  man  to  pray  to 
the  God  whom  he  has  defied  in  all  his  ways !  To 
pray  because  his  life  is  threatened  and  he  wants  to 
save  his  skin ! 

"  I  haven't  been  praying  much  lately,"  Quinn 
said  to  himself,  with  a  grim  smile,  while  the  Nor- 
man was  going  down;  but  again  as  he  lay  on  the 
raft,  he  thought  calmly,  even  gladly  of  God's 
mercy. 

During  the  third  night  and  the  following  day, 
Quinn  was  in  a  stupor.  In  a  conscious  moment, 
he  lifted  himself  and  looked  across  the  waters, 
now  smooth,  and  up  into  the  sky.  He  thought  he 
detected  a  sail  that  lifted  itself  above  the  blue 
stretch  of  the  sea  and  stood  out  against  the  sky. 
Yes,  there  it  was,  a  ship  coming  up  over  the  hori- 
zon, heading  in  the  direction  of  the  raft.  Quinn 
watched,  longed,  hoped.  At  last  he  made  out  that 
it  was  a  sailing  brig.  The  wind  was  in  the  right 
quarter,  and  if  she  kept  her  course,  she  would  soon 
be  within  hailing  distance.  With  superhuman 
strength,  Quinn  tore  up  a  plank  from  the  raft, 


78  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

fastened  his  shirt  to  the  plank,  held  it  between  his 
knees  and  waited. 

The  brig  had  now  reached  the  point  where  she 
would  be  nearest  him.  Presently  her  course  would 
take  her  past  him,  out  of  sight,  beyond  the 
power  of  help.  Would  she  see  him?  Life  was 
slipping.  His  hands  were  icy;  his  brain  aflame; 
he  felt  himself  dying.  But  there!  A  flag  goes 
up,  it  dips!  Again!  And  again!  A  third  time 
and  down  again!  He  had  been  sighted!  That 
was  all  that  Quinn  knew  until  later  when  he, 
opened  his  eyes  in  a  bunk  of  the  brig,  and  heard 
"  Dutch,"  who  was  walking  about  the  deck,  telling 
all  hands  "  how  it  had  happened." 

The  brig  was  on  her  way  to  carry  supplies  to  an 
out-of-the-way  island  off  the  beaten  highway  of 
the  sea.  There  is  a  superstition  among  sailors 
that  any  man  picked  np  only  to  die  on  board  will 
bring  evil  on  those  who  rescued  him.  Quinn  was 
very  sick.  The  sailors  decided  that  he  was  dying. 
When  the  brig  dropped  anchor  off  the  island,  they 
took  Quinn  ashore. 

Once  on  shore,  Quinn  was  led  by  his  sailor  guide 
along  the  base  of  the  island,  up  a  narrow,  ragged 
trail  and  around  a  high  ledge  of  rocks.  On  round- 
ing a  hill,  they  came  upon  a  monastery  hidden  in 
an  elbow  of  the  mountain.  Crossing  a  draw- 
bridge, they  paused  before  a  wooden  door  that  was 
hung  on  heavy  hinges.  "  Have  I,  after  all," 
thought  Quinn,  "  reached  my  destination?  " 


79 

The  sailor  knocked.  They  heard  footsteps 
within,  and  a  moment  later,  the  door  was  opened 
cautiously  and  a  number  of  monks  peered  out  at 
them. 

"  Was  it  a  newcomer,  one  who,  like  themselves, 
had  abandoned  the  world  and  now  sought  the  se- 
clusion of  the  monastery?  " 

"  He  needs  help,"  explained  the  sailor,  pointing 
to  Quinn.  "  He  is  sick." 

Exhausted  in  mind  and  body,  Quinn  waited, 
while  the  monks  looked  at  each  other  and  at  him. 
The  sailor  again  explained  the  stranger's  plight. 
After  a  moment,  one  of  the  monks  turned  to 
Quinn  and  asked  him  to  come  inside,  and  he  led 
the  way  across  the  room  into  a  narrow  cloister. 
Quinn  felt  an  odd  shock  of  revolt  as  he  weathered 
the  scrutiny  of  the  monks.  The  way  led  through 
a  door  at  the  end  of  a  long  hall,  into  a  small  room. 

"  Here,"  the  monk  said  in  a  kindly  tone,  and  in 
Ouinn's  own  language,  "  you  will  find  a  change 
of  garments,  also  water  for  your  bath ; "  and 
as  he  left  the  room,  he  added,  "  I  will  bring 
you  some  food  in  a  little  while;  that  will  revive 
you." 

With  a  feeling  of  gratefulness,  Quinn  sank  upon 
a  bench.  This,  with  an  iron  bed  and  a  candle 
stand,  made  up  the  furnishings  of  the  room.  As 
Quinn  sat  in  his  quandary,  he  noted  the  crucifix  on 
the  wall,  and  the  flagstones  of  the  floor.  "If  this 
should  be  the  place !  "  he  reflected. 


80  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

The  monk  soon  returned  and,  placing  the  food 
on  the  stand,  said,  "  There,  my  son,  food  and  sleep 
will  do  you  good." 

Now  Quinn  made  note  that  the  monk  was  old, 
but  the  natural  grace  of  his  bodily  strength  had 
not  failed  him.  The  cowl  above  his  gown  par- 
tially hid  his  face  from  view.  Around  his  waist, 
a  knotted  rope  served  as  a  girdle,  the  ends  of 
which  hung  down  his  side.  A  wooden  rosary 
hung  about  his  neck.  His  feet  were  encased  in 
sandals,  his  head  tonsured,  his  strong  face  shaven 
clean.  As  Quinn  observed  him  and  noted  the 
long,  straight  nose  and  the  stubborn  chin,  some- 
thing floated  on  the  edge  of  his  consciousness. 
For  the  moment  he  thought  he  had  known  the  man 
before  him,  then  the  notion  faded  and  he  fancied 
himself  in  the  presence  of  a  Roman  Emperor. 
Quinn  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  forehead. 
He  felt  faint.  "Where  have  I  seen  this  man?" 
he  said  to  himself.  "  He  is  kind  anyway,"  he  con- 
cluded, as  the  monk  withdrew. 

Having  eaten,  Quinn  decided  to  sleep,  but  tired 
and  worn  as  he  was,  found  no  repose.  Like  a  sol- 
dier in  battle,  he  had  forgotten  himself  during  the 
strife,  but  now  that  the  siege  was  at  an  end,  and 
he  was  safe,  dread  overpowered  him.  The  shift- 
ing scenes  of  his  recent  experience  came  and  went 
across  his  mind.  As  he  lay  on  his  cot  in  the  dark- 
ness, he  thought  of  the  Norman,  the  raft,  the  brig, 
the  monastery,  the  monks,  the  room,  of  Jean,  of 


WHAT  DBEAMS  AEE  MADE'OF         81 

the  bewildering  past,  of  his  mysterious  mission,  of 
the  shadowy  future.  "  Rescued  from  a  grave  in 
the  sea  to  be  buried  alive !  "  he  mused.  From  the 
distance  came  the  sound  of  the  ocean  on  the  rocks. 
He  listened  to  the  wind.  At  one  time  he  could 
have  shrieked  to  break  the  spell,  but  he  found  no 
words  to  say,  nor  whom  to  call.  At  last,  no 
longer  able  to  endure  his  desperation,  weak  as  he 
was,  he  sprang  from  the  bed,  dressed,  and  left  the 
room.  He  groped  his  way  along  the  hallway  and 
down  the  corridor,  heavy  with  gloom.  He  pushed 
through  a  door  that  swung  on  groaning  hinges. 
He  ascended  a  flight  of  steps  that  led  to  a  parapet, 
and  as  he  saw  the  stars,  heard  a  bell.  It  sounded 
like  doom,  and  he  fancied  he  would  have  dropped, 
but  for  a  monk  who  appeared  beside  him  and  sup- 
ported him.  "  I  heard  you  leave  your  room,"  the 
monk  said,  in  a  quiet  voice.  "  To-morrow,  after 
you  have  rested,  you  will  be  better  able  to  plan. 
Now  you  must  sleep,"  and  the  monk  led  him  back 
to  the  room.  "  You  are  among  friends — be  at 
peace." 

And  Quinn  slept.  As  he  slept,  he  dreamed  that 
some  one  stood  beside  him.  Some  one  was  calling 
his  name ;  it  was  pleasant  to  hear.  The  one  beside 
him  was  strong  and  ready  to  help. 

Twice  during  the  morning,  the  monk  opened  the 
door;  each  time  he  closed  it  with  a  smile  and  an 
approving  nod. 

It  was  long  past  noon  when  Quinn  wakened. 


82  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

He  lifted  himself  on  his  elbow  and  looked  out 
through  the  little  window.  There  were  the  radi- 
ant splendours  of  a  day  whose  light  gave  all  things 
beauty.  Then  his  head  dropped  back  upon  the 
pillow.  For  a  long  time  he  lay  silent.  At  last  he 
said,  "  It  was  her  look,  her  voice,  her  spirit !  Oh, 
Jean !  "  he  cried,  as  he  lifted  up  his  head.  "  I 
wonder  what  dreams  are  made  of !  " 


VIII 
THE  WEALTH  OF  THE  HILLS 

EARLY  in  the  fall  Creighton  found  it  neces- 
sary to  cross  the  mountains  and  make  a 
trip  to  the  Northern  range  to  do  some 
first-hand  exploring  that  would  help  him,  if  pos- 
sible, to  determine  the  gravity  flow  of  the  water. 
Besides  this,  he  wanted  to  pick  up  a  certain  clue — 
the  clue  of  the  man — Fleck — who  had  sent  him  to 
the  pen.  Duke  accompanied  him,  sketching  their 
findings  and  jotting  down  data  for  record  and  use. 
He  thought  Duke  also  might  be  of  service  in  trail- 
ing Fleck. 

"  The  trip  won't  be  a  hard  one,"  said  Duke,  as 
they  were  making  their  plans.  "  I  am  sure  Beth 
and  Jean  would  enjoy  it.  I  am  wondering  if  we 
can't  arrange  to  have  them  go  with  us." 

"  If  pleasure  interferes  with  your  business,  give 
up  your  business,"  Creighton  said  with  a  smile. 

"  Not  that,  Mr.  Creighton,"  Duke  replied,  "  but 
Sam  has  charge  of  the  men  and  he  knows  just 
what  to  do  to  make  Beth  and  Jean  comfortable, 
and  I  thought  they  might  as  well  enjoy  the  trip." 

At  the  mention  of  Sam's  name,  Creighton's  face 
lighted.  "All  right !  "  he  said.  "  Tell  Sam  to  ar- 

83 


84  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

range  to  care  for  them,  and  tell  him  to  have  every- 
thing ready  for  an  early  start." 

Thus  they  had  gone  together,  up  into  the  King's 
River  Country,  walking  and  riding  in  turns,  mak- 
ing observations  by  day,  and  by  night  coming  to 
camp.  There  they  would  find  the  tents  pitched, 
and  the  food  ready  to  be  served.  It  was  a  happy 
time  for  Beth  and  Jean,  and  as  for  Creighton,  he 
found  out  what  he  wanted  to  know. 

One  morning  as  the  party  came  into  the  shadows 
of  the  Calaveras  forest,  they  saw  Sam,  who  had 
gone  before,  leaning  over  the  stump  of  one  of  the 
large  trees.  He  was  counting  the  rings  of  each 
year's  growth,  and  trying  to  figure  out  its  age. 

"  How  old  is  it,  Sam?  "  Beth  asked,  taking  her 
place  beside  him. 

"Two  thousand  years,  this  one, — by  the  rings! 
That  one  is  three  thousand,  and  that  one,  over 
there,  four.  It's  three  times  the  size  of  the  one 
here,  and  that  one  over  there  is  at  least " 

"  Stop !  "  Beth  cried.     "  I  can't  get  you !  " 

"  Figure  it  this  way,  so  far  as  we  can,"  said 
Creighton.  "  Man  has  been  on  this  planet  ten 
thousand  years.  That  covers  everything  since  his- 
tory. These  trees  have  stood  here,  lording  it  over 
this  valley,  with  their  heads  to  the  stars  long 
enough  to  let  almost  all  human  history  pass  by." 

Pausing,  they  looked  up  to  the  top  of  the  giant 
tree.  Sam  called  their  attention  to  its  height,  say- 
ing, "  Look  up,  now  back  away,  and  watch  it  climb 


THE  WEALTH  OF  THE  HILLS  85 

into  the  sky ! "  For  a  long  time  they  stood  in 
silence.  Presently  a  ray  of  light  fell  through  the 
foliage,  and  Sam  broke  the  silence  by  pointing  to 
the  oaks  near  by,  and  saying,  "  These  grew,"  then 
raising  his  eyes  to  the  redwoods,  he  said,  "  but 
Almighty  God  made  these."  The  three  men  re- 
moved their  caps  and  stood  in  silence. 

Along  the  way,  Sam  had  gathered  a  bouquet  of 
squaw  grass,  and  as  he  gave  the  silver  flowers  to 
Beth  and  Jean,  he  told  them  how  they  blossom 
only  once  in  seven  years. 

"  You  are  fond  of  flowers,  are  you  not,  Sam? " 
Jean  asked,  as  she  thanked  him  for  the  bouquet. 

"I  like  them,"  he  replied,  "but  not  on  a  woman's 
hat,  nor  woven  in  a  carpet." 

"  But,  Sam,  think  how  fond  your  Indian  women 
are  of  decorating  themselves." 

"  The  Indian  woman,"  Sam  replied,  "  'braids  her 
hair,  and  decorates  herself  with  beads  as  blue  as 
the  sky,  or  as  dark  as  her  eyes,  or  as  green  as  the 
leaves  of  the  trees,  then  she  throws  a  scarf  over 
her  head  that  is  as  bright  and  cheerful  as  the  glow 
of  the  orange;  and  she  is  supposed  to  be  dressed 
like  a  barbarian.  But  look  at  some  of  your  Amer- 
ican women.  They  have  a  fruit  ranch  on  their 
hats — there  are  plums,  cherries,  grapes,  pickles, 
wild  hay,  pumpkin  and  squash  vines;  or  they  col- 
lect a  bunch  of  feathers  from  a  chicken,  along  with 
the  wing  of  an  owl,  and  the  tail  of  a  crow,  and 
wear  it,  and  that  is  supposed  to  be  beautiful.  It 


86  VINDICATION  OF  EGBERT  CEEIGHTON 

may  be  beautiful,  I  don't  know  about  that,  but  I 
prefer  the  Indian  beads,"  Sam  concluded,  as  all 
joined  in  hearty  laughter. 

"  How  bright  and  fresh  the  charcoal  is !  "  said 
Jean.  "  There  must  have  been  a  recent  fire  here." 

"  No,"  Sam  replied,  "  charcoal  never  loses  its 
lustre.  Such  fire  was  kindled  by  the  Indians  years 
and  years  ago.  It  used  to  be  when  they  wanted 
game,  they  went  back  into  the  canyon,  set  fire  to 
the  woods,  and  when  the  mountain  bears  and  bob- 
cats were  driven  out  by  the  fire,  they  would 
slaughter  them." 

They  now  came  to  a  circle  of  great  trees. 

"  These  are  of  the  curly  grain  variety,"  said 
Sam.  "  You  can  see  the  curl  in  the  bark,"  and 
they  noted  the  graceful  waves.  "  That  curl  goes 
right  through  into  the  grain  of  the  wood.  It  is 
the  most  beautiful  wood  in  the  world!  The  cen- 
tral tree,"  he  continued,  "  has  been  cut  out,  and 
around  the  rim  from  the  parent  root  these  dozen 
trees  have  grown,  each  one  of  them  a  giant." 

Later,  when  they  came  around  the  shoulder  of 
the  mountains  that  afforded  a  view  across  the  in- 
tervening valley,  the  half-breed  pointed  out  the 
trail  up  the  mountainside.  "  These  peaks  used  to 
belong  to  my  people,"  he  said,  "  and  echoed  to  the 
footsteps  of  the  Indian  pony  long  before  the  grind 
of  the  pony  relay  stage." 

Far  below,  they  noted  a  mountain  stream  gleam- 
ing through  the  greenery  like  a  silver  ribbon,  and 


THE  WEALTH  OF  THE  HILLS  87 

dancing  around  the  rocks  as  it  journeyed  to  the 
sea.  Deer  came  timidly  out  of  the  underbrush  for 
a  drink,  and  Sam  explained  that  one  of  them  was 
on  the  alert  to  guard  the  others  and  warn  them  of 
lurking  danger. 

Above  the  mountain  stream,  over  a  shelf  of 
rocks  that  was  hidden  beneath  foliage,  a  waterfall 
plunged  into  view,  and  as  the  breath  of  the  canyon 
smote  it,  and  the  sunbeams  drove  across  its  un- 
folding billows  of  creamy  white,  it  spilled  its  glory 
through  the  spaces,  and  fell  on  the  rocks  below  in 
a  cadence  of  melody  that  faded  away  in  a  shoreless 
sea  of  song. 

As  they  came  over  the  crest  of  the  mountain, 
slowly  down  to  the  opposite  side,  they  saw  a  ridge 
a  mile  in  length.  At  the  top  it  was  only  a  few 
feet  wide.  It  was  without  vegetation  6f  any  kind. 
Through  the  center  of  it  they  saw  an  open  seam 
in  the  rocks,  and  out  of  it  issued  a  roar  that 
sounded  like  the  muffled  whistle  of  a  steamboat. 

;'  This,"  said  Creighton,  "  is  the  newest  portion 
of  the  earth's  globe.  The  crust  here  is  only  half- 
baked.  The  fires  cooled  off  before  it  was  thor- 
oughly cooked." 

Meanwhile,  Sam  had  gathered  half  a  dozen 
sticks ;  on  the  end  of  each,  he  tied  an  egg  wrapped 
in  a  bit  of  linen.  Giving  each  of  the  party  a  stick 
with  the  egg  on  the  end  of  it,  he  said,  "  Come 
along  now;  every  man  his  own.  chef.  Boil  your 
eggs  to  suit  yourself," 


88  VINDICATION  OP  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

Climbing  to  the  edge  of  the  fissure,  they  swung 
the  eggs  down  into  the  opening,  and  so  great  was 
the  heat  of  the  steam  that  issued  from  the  open- 
ing that  the  eggs  were  hard-boiled  in  a  very  short 
time. 

"  The  steam  that  comes  out  of  that  fissure," 
said  Creighton,  "  is  charged  with  the  silica  from 
the  acid  rock  that  mothers  minerals.  This  is  the 
only  place  on  the  earth's  surface  where  a  mineral 
vein  is  in  the  process  of  formation.  Here  gold, 
silver,  antimony,  cinnabar  and  quicksilver  crystals 
are  being  precipitated.  When  the  heat  and  the 
pressure  reach  a  certain  point,  the  conditions  are 
right  for  mineralization,  and  the  elements  pass 
from  one  form  to  another,  just  as  when  you  make 
maple  sugar  by  boiling  the  sap.  Big  coarse  quartz 
carries  only  a  small  percentage  of  mineral.  The 
fine,  small  crystals  are  rich  in  ore.  They  repre- 
sent the  long  periods  of  mineralization,  the  refine- 
ment of  mineral  life.  The  big  trees  are  wonder- 
ful, being  alive,  but  for  age  they  are  in  the  kinder- 
garten compared  with  what  is  going  on  here.  It 
takes  nature  a  long  time  to  turn  out  her  finished 
products." 

While  the  men  were  preparing  the  lunch,  Duke 
was  gathering  the  data  that  would  help  them  in 
locating  possible  hidden  streams  of  water  that 
might  be  tapped  by  tunnelling. 

"  I  think  we  are  on  the  right  clue/*  said  Creigh- 
lon,  looking  at  the  slope  of  the  mountains,  then  at 


THE  WEALTH  OF  THE  HILLS  89 

Duke's  drawings.  "An  engineer  is  just  a  pair  of 
scales  to  weigh  the  facts;  get  close  to  the  condi- 
tions and  find  out  what  is  below  the  surface.  It's 
a  fascinating  game,  isn't  it?" 

"  I  call  it  a  gamble  with  the  cards  stacked 
against  you,"  Duke  replied. 

In  a  detour  that  led  into  a  plateau,  Sam  took  the 
party  to  the  cabin  of  a  pioneer  whom  Creighton 
wanted,  with  unaccountable  anxiety,  to  see,  and 
who  was  known  far  and  wide  as  an  authority  on 
bees  and  wild  flowers.  As  the  old  man  pointed 
out  the  various  hives  into  which  the  bees  were 
bringing  their  rich  stores,  he  talked  about  them. 

As  they  stood  listening,  Sam  gathered  a  handful 
of  yellow  butter  balls  and  some  purple  heather, 
and  pulling  up  the  roots  of  some  lizard  tail,  he 
said,  "  The  Indians  make  tea  out  of  this.  It's 
good  for  rheumatism.  Don't  smile,"  he  said,  ad- 
dressing Beth ;  "  you  used  to  take  sassafras  tea 
and  sulphur  and  molasses." 

"  Oh,  that  wasn't  so  bad,  but,  oh,  the  goose 
grease  I  had  to  take  for  my  croup ! "  Beth  re- 
marked with  a  laugh. 

"  Yes,  I  remember  that  too ;  you  used  to  bark 
like  a  sea-lion.  But  there's  nothing  better  for  a 
cold  than  goose  grease.  I've  saved  more  than  one 
man's  life  by  pouring  hot  goose  grease  down  his 
throat,  and  rubbing  it  into  his  chest." 

"We're  behind  the  schedule,"  said  Sam,  paus- 
ing in  his  reminiscences  to  glance  at  the  sun.  "  It 


90  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

will  be  dark  long  before  we  reach  camp.  Come 
along  now,  in  a  good,  steady  swing. 

"  These  woods  once  thrilled  with  the  songs  of 
all  kinds  of  birds,"  said  Sam,  as,  leaving  Creighton 
in  conversation  with  the  pioneer,  they  walked  be- 
neath a  cluster  of  trees,  "  but  now  they  are  almost 
silent,"  and  he  looked  wistfully  around  as  if  in 
search  of  a  lost  friend.  "  Not  only  are  the  birds 
gone,  murdered  to  meet  the  demands  of  fashion, 
but  the  insects  upon  which  they  fed  have  increased, 
and  as  a  consequence,  many  a  fine  orchard  has 
been  destroyed.  Civilization  is  great  stuff,  isn't 
it? 

"  Look  at  that  red-breasted  sap-sucker,"  he 
added.  "  There !  He  has  gone  around  to  the 
other  side  of  the  tree.  Hear  his  tattoo!  I  tell 
you,  he  can  make  the  chips  fly  when  he  bores  out 
the  cavity  in  which  to  build  his  nest." 

"  He's  not  civilized/'  Beth  exclaimed.  "  He 
makes  his  wife  do  all  the  hard  drilling.  There  he 
is  now!  See,  he  is  drinking  the  sweet  sap  that 
runs  out  of  the  bark." 

"  Oh,  he  is  civilized  all  right,"  replied  Sam. 
"  He's  a  white  man,  he  drinks  so  much  of  the  sap 
it  makes  him  dizzy ;  he  goes  on  a  regular  spree." 

"  There  aren't  many  of  them  left,"  said  Sam,  in 
answer  to  a  question  from  Creighton,  who  had 
just  overtaken  them,  about  the  Indians.  "  Only 
about  three  hundred  thousand.  Most  people  think 
of  Indiana  a*  wild  savages,  with  painted  skins* 


THE  WEALTH  OF  THE  HILLS  91 

dancing  a  snake  dance  around  a  fire  in  the  dark 
of  the  moon.  In  museums  you  can  see  samples 
of  Indian  pottery  and  baskets  and  blankets,  and 
once  in  a  great  while  you  will  hear  a  trace  of  In- 
dian music.  That  is  what  civilization  has  done 
for  my  people.  Their  land  has  been  confiscated; 
they  have  been  driven  out  of  their  homes  and  thus 
impoverished,  depleted  in  health  and  hope — they 
are  left  to  shift  for  themselves.  But  the  Indian  is 
a  good  loser,"  Sam  concluded.  "Anyway,  you 
can't  live  on  a  grouch." 

"  Isn't  Sam  wonderful  ?  "  Jean  said  to  Beth,  as 
they  walked  along. 

"  Sam  is  wonderful !"  Beth  replied.  "  He  knows 
the  wealth  of  the  hills,  the  language  of  the  brooks, 
the  story  of  the  seasons  and  the  message  of  the 
mountains !  He  is  a  good  rider,  a  perfect  shot  and 
a  fine  canoeist;  he  is  the  most  graceful  walker  I 
ever  saw.  Just  look  at  his  stride,  and  watch  the 
rhythm  of  his  swing!  He  is  the  champion  long 
distance  runner  of  the  country.  And  resourceful 
— I  have  never  once  seen  him  at  his  wit's  end ! 

"  I  remember  when  I  was  a  little  girl,  I  asked 
him  one  time  about  the  four  seasons  of  the  year, 
and  he  said,  '  To-morrow  I  will  show  you.'  Early 
in  the  morning  he  took  me  up  into  the  mountains 
where  we  snowballed.  '  That  is  winter,'  he  said. 
Then  we  came  down  into  the  rose  garden,  and  he 
cut  a  big  bouquet  of  roses.  '  This  is  spring,'  he 
remarked,  as  he  gave  me  the  flower?,  Then  w§ 


92  VINDICATION  OP  EOBEET  CKEIGHTOH 

went  down  to  the  beach  and  toon:  a  plunge  in  the 
ocean.  '  Now  you  are  in  the  middle  of  summer/ 
he  said.  Then  we  came  home  and  went  out  into 
the  vineyard  and  gathered  clusters  of  grapes. 
'  This  is  autumn/  he  exclaimed.  '  Winter,  spring, 
summer,  autumn — all  of  the  seasons  of  the  year 
in  one  day.  Now  you  know  what  they  mean/  he 
said.  And  I  did ! 

"  I  remember  one  morning  I  was  watching  the 
sun  come  up,  and  I  was  trying  to  guess  where  it 
would  appear.  It  was  the  first  time  we  had  been 
in  that  part  of  the  range.  Sam  came  along  and 
asked  me  what  I  was  doing,  and  when  I  told  him, 
he  said,  *  Look  for  it — there ! '  and  he  pointed  out 
the  exact  spot  where  the  sun  came  over  the  moun- 
tain. And  as  we  watched  the  sun  climb  up  over 
the  peak  and  flood  the  world  with  morning  light, 
and  then  looked  down  below  on  the  dark  domes 
that  lifted  their  heads  out  of  a  sea  of  mist,  I  re- 
member seeing  Sam  take  off  his  hat  and  stand 
there,  silent  and  reverent.  He  is  a  great  soul ! " 
Beth  concluded,  impressively. 

"  Who  is  he?  "  Jean  asked  Beth. 

"Who  is  anybody?  Sam  never  speaks  of  the 
past.  That's  his  secret !  " 

"  Everybody  has  a  secret,  it  seems  to  me,"  said 
Jean.  "  Quinn  has  gone  on  a  secret  mission  to 
the  Isle  of  Patmos.  Whenever  I  come  near  Mr. 
Creighton,  he  seems  to  me  somehow  to  change,  to 
put  on  an  extra  effort  to  appear  natural.  Why? 


THE  WEALTH  OF  THE  HILLS  93 

I  can't  imagine !     I  only  know  that  I  am  conscious 
of  it. 

"  Did  you  hear  him  talking  to  the  old  pros- 
pector? Creighton  asked  him  how  long  he  had 
been  working  the  mine,  and  when  he  replied,  *  Oh, 
off  and  on  for  twenty  years/  Creighton  turned 
pale.  And  when  the  miner  told  him  that  there 
had  been  a  fierce  fight  over  the  claim,  and  that  the 
mine  never  brought  any  luck  to  the  men  who  got 
it  because  they  had  railroaded  a  man  into  the  pen 
to  get  him  out  of  the  way,  I  thought  Creighton 
was  going  to  fall  in  his  tracks!  I  tell  you,  there 
is  trouble  in  his  life.  My  heart  aches  when  I  look 
at  him.  He  is  fighting  a  battle.  I  sometimes 
wonder  how  long  he  can  keep  it  up." 


IX 
FOLLOWING   THE   GLEAM 

THROUGH  the  nursing  and  care  of  the 
monk  who  had  admitted  him  to  the  mon- 
astery, Quinn  had  recovered  his  strength 
and  was  becoming  restless.  "  At  long  intervals," 
the  monk  told  him,  "  a  brig  stops  here ;  apart  from 
this,  there  is  no  way  of  communicating  with  the 
outside  world." 

With  the  monks  of  the  monastery  he  had  little 
in  common.  They  gave  him  food  and  a  place  to 
sleep,  cheerfully,  but  Quinn  felt  that  most  of  them 
would  be  glad  to  be  rid  of  him.  He  spent  many 
days  in  the  library  where  the  shelves  were  stacked, 
but  although  the  books  he -found  were  written  in 
various  languages,  Quinn  was  a  linguist  and  able 
to  understand  and  enjoy. 

Seated  in  the  chapel,  Quinn  watched  the  altar 
lights  and  listened  to  the  chorus  as  the  monks 
chanted  their  responses.  For  the  moment,  peace 
would  creep  into  his  soul.  But  when  he  sat  in  the 
cloister  with  the  pacing  monks  about  him,  rebellion 
arose  within  him. 

"  They  are  fooling  themselves  with  illusions," 
94 


FOLLOWING  THE  GLEAM  05 

he  said.  "  Because  they  have  a  few  rare  volumes 
they  think  they  have  a  library.  It's  a  book 
morgue!  Four  drops  of  the  tincture  of  madness 
taken  daily  does  the  work.  Nothing  spreads  like 
blue,  and  they  think  they  enjoy  their  melancholy! 
Habit — habit — habit!  What  crimes  are  commit- 
ted in  your  name !  "  he  muttered,  as  he  left  the 
monastery  and  walked  to  a  ledge  of  rock  that 
overhung  the  sea. 

During  the  first  days  of  his  stay  on  the  island, 
one  brother  had  watched  Quinn  closely.  A  feel- 
ing of  interest  had  arisen  between  them.  To  him, 
Quinn  had  already  told  details  of  his  life;  he  had 
told  him,  too,  about  the  mission  committed  to  his 
hands.  The  letter  entrusted  to  him  had  been  lost. 
He  had  given  to  the  monk  the  name  of  the  man  to 
whom  the  letter  had  been  addressed.  And  this 
had  led  to  an  intimate  acquaintance.  This  monk, 
it  was,  who  had  cared  for  him  on  the  day  of  his 
arrival,  and  when  Quinn  felt  a  hand  resting  on  his 
shoulder  one  day,  he  was  not  surprised,  on  look- 
ing, to  find  his  new  friend  at  his  side. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  you,"  the  monk  said,  "  and 
of  your  experience,"  and  his  eyes  glowed  as  he 
continued.  "  It  made  me  live  over  again  my  life 
of  other  years.  My  youth,  my  early  manhood 
were  not  unlike  your  own.  Then  my  hopes  were 
wrecked  and  sent  me  here." 

And  suddenly  his  eyes  were  wet.  Then  he 
smiled. 


96  VINDICATION  OF  ROBERT  CREIGHTON 

"  People  who  cry  cannot  see,"  the  monk  said,  as 
he  continued.  "  The  best  of  life,  the  stories  leave 
untold;  they  tell  about  the  blows,  not  how  the 
bruise  was  carried.  Stories  never  tell  you  these 
things,  but  life  omits  no  part.  Nevertheless,  all 
parts  make  up  the  real  story  of  life,  the  story  we 
weep  over  or  rejoice  in,  the  story  we  treasure  in 
the  heart." 

"  Won't  you  tell  me  your  story  ?  "  Quinn  asked. 

At  this  the  monk  seemed  deeply  moved,  and 
Quinn  feared  that  his  direct  question  had  offended 
his  good  friend,  but  after  a  moment,  the  monk 
said: 

"  It  is  a  long  story,  my  son,  and  a  long  time  ago. 
About  your  age,  I  was  finishing  college.  I  was 
poor,  but  poverty  meant  nothing  to  the  woman  I 
loved — and  I  had  taught  her  to  love  me.  I  worked 
and  studied  for  her.  She  was  my  star  of  hope, 
my  inspiration,  and  when  I  finished — with  hon- 
ours, my  joy  was  multiplied  because  she  shared  it 
with  me.  At  last  the  time  came  when  I  had  made 
a  home  for  her,  but  her  family  had  planned  other- 
wise. Some  one  her  father  had  chosen — married 
her.  I  had  a  brother  who  had  gone  West  in 
search  of  wealth.  From  the  first  he  succeeded. 
All  his  projects  spelled  success.  Then  he  disap- 
peared. I  went  to  the  coast  to  clear  the  mystery, 
but  found  no  trace  of  him.  This  mystery  and  the 
implied  disgrace  was  the  excuse  her  father  gave 
me  for  refusing  me  my  wife." 


FOLLOWING  THE  GLEAM  97 

Ouinn  looked  at  the  monk  with  piercing  scru- 
tiny, and  was  on  the  point  of  speaking  when  the 
monk  continued: 

"  I  tried  to  be  reconciled — and  I  was,  eventually. 
But  I  found  no  happiness.  Thus,  the  years  sped 
on.  I  cannot  tell  you  all  that  came  into  my  life. 

"  I  found  relief  in  teaching.  A  professorship 
was  given  to  me.  There  was  a  large  attendance 
one  winter  semester.  To  help  out  several  of  the 
men,  I  shared  my  rooms  with  them  for  a  number 
of  weeks.  By  an  accident — our  writing  was  oddly 
similar — I  saw  one  day  how  one  of  the  students 
had  written  concerning  my  *  scholarship  and  abil- 
ity,' and  in  ending  the  letter,  he  said  he  hoped  his 
father  would  visit  him  and  come  to  know  me. 

"  During  the  course  of  the  winter  the  young 
man  became  ill,  and  died  before  his  parents  could 
arrive.  His  mother  came  the  morning  of  her 
son's  death.  When  she  saw  he  was  dead,  a  cry 
of  agony  escaped  her  lips ;  she  called  his  name  and 
mine,  and  fainted. 

"  Next  day  she  died.  Together,  mother  and 
son  were  taken  home.  Before  she  died,  she  told 
me  she  had  sent  him  to  me  for  my  teaching.  She 
hoped  to  compensate  me — with  him — for  the  sor- 
row of  my  life. 

"  You  see,  my  son,"  the  monk  continued,  "  a 
woman's  heart  can  never  quite  forget  the  man  who 
has  loved  her,  whom  she  has  loved. 

"  Friends  came  to  me  with  comfort  and  advice, 


98  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CKEIGHTON 

but  they  brought  no  consolation,  .What  were 
these  to  one  who  hung  upon  the  heavy  cross  of 
mystery,  and  in  whose  heart  the  problem  of  exist- 
ence lay  heavy  and  unsolved  ? 

"  The  world,  life,  death,  eternity — the  thought 
of  all  these  multiplied  the  anguish  of  my  soul. 
The  final  light  of  hope  faded  for  me,  and  died; 
and,  not  caring  for  life,  yet  still  clinging  to  it  be- 
cause I  doubted  another,  I  passed  within  the 
shadow  of  that  tower,  and  the  monastery  closed 
behind  me." 

The  monk  now  stood  before  him,  having  arisen 
as  he  concluded.  His  stalwart  figure,  in  brown, 
his  white  hair,  his  keen  eye,  his  frank,  untroubled 
manner,  made  him  a  figure  of  commanding 
power. 

"And  did  you  find  the  comfort  you  sought  ?  " 
Quinn  inquired. 

"  No.  But  I  found  a  comfort  of  a  different 
sort.  Real  value  is  in  the  aim,  in  the  purpose  to 
be  achieved.  I  had  known  this  as  a  theory,  but 
now  I  had  to  bring  it  to  my  life.  When  I  came 
here — I  am  not  a  priest — I  came  to  find,  if  pos- 
sible, the  resignation,  the  faith,  the  security,  the 
solace  which  I  had  heard  the  men  found  who  live 
here." 

"  It's  the  last  place  I  should  have  chosen ! " 
Quinn  exclaimed. 

"  So  you  think  now,  my  son,  and  so  I  thought — 
in  the  old  days.  But  this  is  not  life — outside  of 


FOLLOWING  THE  GLEAM  99 

living,  as  you  think.  It  is  life  in  authority — not 
inspired  from  without,  but  derived  from  within. 

"  Fortunately  for  us,  some  things  are  self-evi- 
dent, as — things  that  are  equal  to  the  same  thing 
are  equal  to  each  other.  So  we  know  that  our 
days  are  numbered,  and  we  want  to  meet  God  in 
peace.  In  the  hour  when  we  face  the  inevitable 
thing  we  call  Death,  we  would  be  on  good  terms 
with  the  universe.  Such  is  the  wish  of  every  soul, 
and  the  human  mind,  my  son,  is  such  that  it  must 
give  assent  to  these  truths.  The  mark  of  a  master 
mind  is  the  love  of  truth  and  pursuit  of  it.  In 
such,  there  is  no  confusion  of  issues,  no  prejudiced 
conclusion,  no  evasion  through  fear,  or  supersti- 
tion. 

"A  picture,  a  poem,  a  play,  a  novel,  a  lecture,  an 
essay  or  a  sermon,  if  it  expresses  life,  has  four 
simple  elements:  first,  beauty;  second,  interest; 
third,  vitality;  and  fourth,  inspiration — power  to 
embody  in  your  life  all  that  you  found  therein. 
Simply  to  know  that  a  thing  is  beautiful  amounts 
to  nothing.  But  to  feel  it,  to  have  its  glory  thrill 
you,  to  have  its  appeal  awaken  in  your  soul  the 
music  of  life,  and  to  have  it  bring  to  you  the  con- 
sciousness that  you  belong  to  the  great  company  of 
immortals  who,  through  suffering,  have  been  made 
strong  —  that  makes  you  feel  rich  —  rich  in- 
deed   "  The  monk  paused. 

"  It's  all  right  to  feel  rich,"  said  Quinn.  "  I 
agree  with  you  there ;  but  feeling  that  way  doesn't 


100  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CKEIGHTON 

make  you  so.  I  like  you,  and  your  company,  but 
if  it  weren't  for  you,  this  outfit  would  drive  one  to 
lunacy.  I  don't  like  your  life  here,  and  I'm  not 
going  to  say  I  do." 

"  Nevertheless,  we  have  to  deal  with  things  as 
they  are,"  said  the  brother,  "  and  there  are  two 
ways  of  looking  at  them.  You  can  look  at  pre- 
cious stones  and  see  sand,  charcoal  and  rust;  or, 
you  can  see  the  heart  beat  in  an  opal,  and  the  sun 
in  the  heart  of  the  diamond.  So,  also,  you  can 
know  the  universe  as  matter,  or  you  can  see  it  in 
the  terms  of  spirit. 

"  Listen  to  this,"  and  the  monk  took  from  his 
pocket  a  little  book  and  began  to  read. 

"  '  Socrates:  We  are  agreed  that  he  who  uses  a 
thing  is  always  different  from  the  thing  he  uses. 

"  '  Alcibiades:  That  is  agreed  between  us. 

"'Socrates:  So  that  the  shoemaker  and  the 
harper  are  some  other  thing  than  the  hands  and 
eyes  which  they  both  use. 

"  '  Alcibiades:  That  is  plain. 
'  Socrates:  Man  uses  his  body. 

"  '  Alcibiades:  Who  doubts  it? 

'  Socrates :  That  which  uses  a  thing  is  differ- 
ent from  the  thing  which  is  used. 

"'Alcibiades:  Yes. 

"'Socrates:  Man,  then,  is  a  different  thing 
from  his  body? 

"'Alcibiades:  I  believe  it. 

"  '  Socrates:  What  is  man,  then? 


FOLLOWING  THE  GLEAM  101 

"'  Alcibiades:  Indeed,  Socrates,  I  cannot  tell. 

"  '  Socrates :  You  can  at  least  tell  me  that  man  is 
that  which  uses  the  body. 

"  '  Alcibiades:  That  is  true. 

"'Socrates:  Is  there  anything  that  uses  the 
body  besides  the  soul? 

"'Alcibiades:  No,  nothing  else. 

"  *  Socrates:  Is  it  that  that  governs? 

"  '  Alcibiades :  Most  certainly. 

'  Socrates:  I  believe  that  there  is  no  man  but 
is  forced  to  confess 

"'Alcibiades:  What? 

"'Socrates:  That  man  is  either  one  of  these 
three  things:  either  the  soul  or  the  body,  or  the 
compound  of  them  both.  Now  are  we  agreed  that 
man  is  that  which  commands  the  body? 

"  '  Alcibiades:  That  we  are. 

'  Socrates:  What  is  man,  then?  Does  the 
body  command  itself?  No,  for  we  have  said  it  is 
the  man  that  commands  that.  So  that  the  body  is 
not  the  man. 

"  '  Alcibiades:  So  it  seems. 

'  Socrates:  Is  it  then  the  compound  that  com- 
mands the  body  ?  And  shall  this  compound  be  the 
man? 

"  '  Alcibiades:  That  may  be. 

'Socrates:  Nothing  less.  For,  since  one  of 
them  does  not  command,  as  we  have  already  said, 
it  is  impossible  that  both  should  command  to- 
gether. 


102  VINDICATION  OP  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

"  '  Alcibiades:  It  is  very  true. 

"  *  Socrates:  Seeing  then  neither  the  body  nor 
the  compound  of  soul  and  body  are  the  man,  it  is 
absolutely  necessary  either  that  man  be  nothing  at 
all,  or  that  the  soul  alone  be  the  man/ 

"  That,  my  son,  is  reasoning.  Now,  the  one 
thing  that  you  were  most  certain  of  as  regards 
yourself  while  listening  is  the  fact  that  you  are 
yourself  a  conscious  thinker.  It  is  not  possible 
to  reason  about  a  self  unless  there  is  a  self  to  do 
the  reasoning.  I  have  been  telling  you  about  my- 
self as  I  am  now  and  as  I  was  twenty  years  ago. 
I  am  the  same  person,  even  though  I  wonder  at  it. 
I  know  this  because  I  can  note  the  meaning  of  the 
changes  the  years  have  brought.  We  learn  by 
contact.  Pardon  me  for  teaching  a  physician 
matters  in  which  he  is  better  informed  than  I ;  but 
it  is  all  in  the  lesson.  You  know  we  learn,  I  re- 
peat, by  contact.  By  a  system  of  nerves,  there  is 
carried  to  the  brain  impressions  made  upon  us  by 
the  external  world.  Other  nerves  carry  the  mes- 
sages from  the  brain  to  the  organs  of  motion.  By 
means  of  the  nerve  lines  that  go  to  the  brain,  we 
obtain  our  knowledge  of  the  outside  world;  by 
means  of  the  nerve  lines  that  go  out  from  the 
brain,  we  perform  our  actions.  This  forms  the 
physical  basis  upon  which  our  life  is  carried  morn- 
ing and  evening,  year  in  and  year  out,  until  the 
span  is  ended.  Thus  knowing  and  acting  make 
up  the  warp  and  woof  of  life.  But  to  interpret 


FOLLOWING  THE  GLEAM  103 

life  is  different  from  life  itself.  When  we  iden- 
tify our  experiences,  sensation  becomes  perception, 
and  we  know  that  the  nerve  lines  are  no  more  the 
personality  that  perceives  these  impressions  than 
the  piano  is  the  musician  who  plays  upon  it.  Our 
personal  appearance  is  largely  a  racial  product  and 
the  result  of  environment.  We  are  born,  grow, 
mature,  decay,  die — that  is  the  order  of  nature. 
Our  bodily  self,  with  its  singularities,  passes  away, 
but  the  true  self  that  looks  out  through  the  eyes, 
that  speaks  through  the  voice,  is  of  a  different  sub- 
stance, and  just  as  after  sleep  we  awake  to  take  up 
the  threads  of  conscious  life  again,  thus  when  the 
physical  life  ceases,  the  personality  will  continue 
its  growth  toward  the  larger  self-hood  of  which 
we  feel  ourselves  capable. 

"  In  the  library,  there  is  a  manuscript  written 
long  before  the  Christian  era.  When  I  read  it,  I 
feel  the  heart-beat  of  the  man  who  wrote  the 
words.  Through  it  I  trace  the  spirit  of  the  writer 
as  he  voices  the  yearnings  and  desires  of  the  men 
of  his  day.  Is  the  genius  less  enduring  than  his 
parchment  ? 

"  When  you  were  a  boy,  did  you  fly  your  kite  at 
dusk?  If  you  did,  perhaps  you  could  not  see  the 
kite,  but  you  felt  its  pull,  and  you  knew  that  it  was 
there!  My  friend,  each  one  of  us  flies  kites  at 
nightfall  in  this  human  world — and  the  tug  we 
feel  is  the  pull  of  the  eternal." 

Noting  that  the  monk  seemed  tired,  Quinn  said, 


104  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

"  You  are  very  kind,  and  I  thank  you.  It  is  all 
very  clear  to  you,  and  when  I  listen,  I  seem  to 
command  myself,  but  I  confess  that  the  only  thing 
I  am  sure  about  is,  that  I  am  not  sure  about  any- 
thing." 

"  So  you  have  taken  stock  of  your  soul?"  the 
monk  asked  eagerly.  "  You  have  lifted  yourself 
into  the  larger  mood?  Have  you  read  and 
thought  and  sought  as  much  of  God  as  you 
have  of  material  things?  Is  there  only  a  house 
and  no  builder?  Is  there  only  music  and  no 
master  ?  Is  there  only  a  machine  and  no  mechani- 
cian? 

"  When  you  turn  the  leaves  of  a  book,  it  shows 
order  and  arrangement.  This  arrangement  dis- 
closes thought.  These  solid  walls  of  the  monas- 
tery mean  thought.  The  ship  that  brought  you, 
and  that  comes  and  goes  at  intervals,  lands  here  by 
agreed  direction.  Now,  order,  stability  and  direc- 
tion are  evident  everywhere.  But  it  is  a  mind 
that  works  through  them,  and  in  them  is  a  mind 
that  reveals  itself  in  its  action. 

"  When  I  showed  you  our  monastery  and 
pointed  out  the  arches,  the  pictures,  the  statues,  the 
books,  the  walk  along  the  cloister,  suppose  you 
had  asked,  '  Who  lives  here  ? '  and  suppose  that  I 
had  answered,  *  No  one.  No  one  ever  has.  It  is 
wall  and  space,  there  is  no  tenant  anywhere.'  Tell 
me,  my  son,  how  would  you  have  felt?  What 
would  have  been  your  thought? 


FOLLOWING  THE  GLEAM  105 

"Here  is  this  solid  earth,  this  open  sky,  these 
stars,  this  sea.  Here  are  flowers  that  charm  us 
with  beauty,  and  birds  that  move  through  the  sun- 
light. Now  speed  through  the  universe.  Touch 
every  star.  Then  call  through  the  spaces  and  ask, 
'  Where  is  the  Master  of  the  House  ?  '  And  if  the 
answer  came,  '  There  is  no  Master/  My  son, 
would  you  laugh — or  would  your  heart  die  of 
loneliness  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  Quinn  replied,  "  if  I  thought  of  the  uni- 
verse in  that  way,  I  would  be  heartsick.  I  think  of 
the  builder  when  I  see  a  house;  but  when  I  see  a 
tree,  I  do  not  think  that  some  one  made  it.  To 
me,  the  universe  is  a  living  thing ;  but  to  you,  it  is 
a  house.  If  you  ask  me  who  the  master  may  be, 
I  must  say  that  so  far  as  I  know,  the  master  of 
the  house  is  Man  himself,  and  none  other.  A 
sorry  answer,  but  I  know  no  better." 

The  monk  made  no  direct  reply.  For  the  mo- 
ment he  gazed  into  the  distance  with  luminous 
eyes.  '  The  riddle  of  existence,"  he  said  pres- 
ently, and  he  spoke  as  though  he  were  communing 
with  himself,  "  is  a  mystery  to  the  finite  mind. 
We  must  take  ourselves  as  we  are.  Just  now, 
right  here,  we  are  a  part  of  the  universe.  In 
planning  our  lives,  the  question  is,  how  can  we 
best  spend  our  days  ?  There  must  be  a  right  way ; 
the  right  way  must  be  the  best  way ;  and  it  must  be 
best  to  live  the  right  way.  We  must  accept  some 
leadership,  some  way.  And  when  all  other  anchors 


106  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEBIGHTON 

give  way,  there  is  left  no  leadership  but  Christ.  I 
have  found  it  adequate  and  satisfying." 

"  Put  that  way,  Christ,  no  doubt,  stands  su- 
preme, but  how  does  your  faith  in  Him  bring  you 
the  assurance  you  seek?  " 

"  My  son,  when  you  think  of  a  church,  a  palace, 
a  picture,  a  poem,  you  can  always  imagine  a  more 
perfect  structure,  a  finer  picture,  a  lovelier  poem. 

"  But  it  is  here  Christ  stands  alone.  His  views 
are  eminence.  His  time  is  endless.  His  spirit 
rules  the  minds  of  men  wherever  the  world  is  best. 
By  common  consent,  His  teachings  are  the  whole 
world's  test  of  excellence.  '  No  mortal  can  with 
Him  compare  among  the  sons  of  men.' 

"  Our  Master  did  not  try  to  argue  a  belief  in  the 
existence  of  God.  He  taught  men  to  say  '  Our 
Father/  and  they  were  satisfied. 

"  Our  Lord  did  not  try  to  prove  immortality. 
He  spoke  of  the  many  mansions. 

"  Christ  did  not  argue  the  worth  of  the  human 
soul.  He  recovered  a  Magdalene. 

"  My  son,  these  truths  fit  into  life  wherever  it  is 
reckoned  at  its  best,  and  it  is  by  faith  in  these 
truths  that  men  have  attained  their  worth,  and 
their  most  glorious  destiny.  Listen ! "  and  they 
paused  to  hear  the  strains  of  the  "  Te  Deum  ": 

"  Thou  art  the  King  of  Glory,  O  Christ, 
Thou  art  the  Everlasting  Son  of  the  Father," 

As  the  music  died  away,  the  monk  said,  "  We 


FOLLOWING  THE  GLEAM  107 

lose  many  things  in  life,  but  the  supreme  calamity 
is  loss  of  God."  Then  after  a  pause,  he  continued, 
"  I  want  to  tell  you  sometime  about  our  island, 
and  a  man  who  lived  here.  Not  now.  But  re- 
member this,  my  son,  take  the  long  view — and  re- 
member also  *  it  doth  not  yet  appear  what  we 
shall  be.' " 


X 

RAINBOWS   ON   PARADE 

GREIGHTON  believed  that  every  man 
must  have  three  things — religion,  a  job 
and  a  hobby.  Some  men  run  to  religion ; 
they  saunter  with  their  heads  in  the  clouds  until 
they  tumble  off  into  a  well.  Others  are  "  busi- 
ness " ;  as  if  the  end  of  man  was  to  leave  behind 
him  a  fortune.  Still  others  go  off  on  hobbies; 
once  astride,  they  never  dismount.  If  a  man  has 
no  religion,  Creighton  held,  he  ignores  the  man 
within  himself;  a  man  without  a  job  becomes  de- 
moralized; and,  if  he  lacks  a  hobby,  he  forgets 
how  to  play.  But  with  the  three — religion,  a  job, 
and  a  hobby,  he  said  you  have  a  clean,  industrious, 
happy  man. 

Creighton  knew  every  soul  in  the  camp,  Mexi- 
can, Chinese,  Swede  or  Guinea,  and  called  them 
by  name  without  hesitation.  It  was  one  of  his 
hobbies  to  locate  the  men  in  zones,  according  to 
temperament  and  disposition,  and  in  a  way  pecul- 
iarly his  own!  If  a  man  was  easily  taken  in,  he 
was  green ;  if  he  was  insolent  and  cowardly,  he  was 
yellow ;  if  he  was  reminiscent,  always  living  in  the 
past,  he  was  indigo;  if  he  praised  himself  and 

1 08 


RAINBOWS  ON  PAKADE  109 

laughed  at  his  own  jokes,  he  was  violet;  if  he  was 
hostile,  reckless,  belligerent,  he  was  red ;  and,  if  he 
was  kind,  he  was  orange ! 

For  an  hour  each  day,  Creighton  met  the  men 
who  had  a  grievance,  or  who,  for  any  reason, 
wanted  to  see  him.  He  called  the  procession  "  the 
rainbows." 

He  was  speaking  to  a  thick-necked  man  one 
morning.  The  fellow  had  heavy  brows  and  a  look 
of  chronic  grouch.  "  Well,  Sibley,"  Creighton 
asked,  as  the  man  slipped  into  a  chair,  "  what's 
the  trouble  to-day  ?  " 

Without  heeding  the  question,  the  man  an- 
nounced that  he  was  going  to  quit  the  job,  and 
wanted  his  "  time." 

"  What's  the  trouble  ?  "  Creighton  repeated  in  a 
quiet  voice. 

"Trouble?"  the  man  demanded.  "Trouble! 
I'll  tell  you  what's  the  trouble.  I  don't  know  no- 
body, and  nobody  knows  me.  What's  more,  I 
don't  want  to  know  nobody.  Anyway,  there  are 
too  many  bosses." 

"  Why  not  write  to  some  of  your  friends  that 
you  do  know  ?  "  Creighton  asked. 

"  Write "  there  was  a  pause  after  the  word 

was  pronounced.  "  Write !  I've  been  away  a 
long  time.  I  can't  write,  I  don't  know  how, 
I " 

"  Let  me  do  it  for  you,"  said  Creighton,  reliev- 
ing the  evident  embarrassment  of  the  man's  con- 


110  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

fession.     "  It  won't  take  a  minute,"  and  turning 
to  the  typewriter,  ticked  off  the  following  letter: 

"  DEAR  FOLKS: 

"  I've  been  living  a  sort  of  a  grasshopper 
life  since  I  left  you.  I  know  I  didn't  do  right  in 
not  letting  you  know  about  myself,  but  I  wasn't  in 
one  place  long  enough  to  give  an  address,  so  I  just 
let  it  go  at  that.  I  am  working  up  here  with  a 
gang  of  men  on  a  big  job  of  engineering.  It's  a 
big  proposition  and  I  don't  know  any  of  the  men, 
but  I'm  getting  acquainted  a  little  and  if  I  stick,  I 
think  there  is  a  good  chance  for  me.  I  guess  you 
think  it's  time  I  was  staying  by  a  job  long  enough 
to  make  something  happen,  and  maybe  I  can. 
Anyway,  if  you  will  send  a  letter  here  I  will  get 
it  and  be  mighty  glad  to  hear  from  the  best  folks 
on  earth. 

"  Your  son, 

"  FRANK  SIBLEY." 

As  Creighton  read  the  letter,  Sibley  drew  his 
chair  close,  and,  leaning  forward,  said,  "Say! 
Mister,  what's  your  line?" 

"  Give  you  ten  guesses,"  Creighton  answered, 
"  and  while  you're  guessing,  I'll  just  add  a  post- 
script." 

"  P.  S.  The  boss  says  to  tell  you  that  while  the 
place  where  I  work  is  called  '  Devil's  Gate,'  the 
gate  is  shut  and  the  Devil  is  locked  out,  and  I'll  say 
it's  the  cleanest  camp  I  ever  worked  in. 

"  FRANK." 


RAINBOWS  ON  PAEADE  111 

"And  just  tell  them,  won't  you,"  Sibley  inter- 
posed, "  that  I'm  working  for  you,  and  put  in  this 
money?"  and  he  drew  a  crumpled  bill  out  of  his 
pocket  and  gave  it  to  Creighton,  while  a  new  light 
glowed  in  his  countenance. 

The  next  man  to  come  in  was  in  a  bad  way. 
"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Creighton,"  he  exclaimed, 
and  then  he  repeated  the  words,  several  times, 
nervously. 

"  Sit  down,  my  friend,"  said  Creighton;  "you're 
seeing  red." 

"  I've  quit,"  said  the  man,  looking  at  nothing  in 
particular.  "  Don't  count  on  me,  I  tell  you.  I'm 
out  of  it." 

"  Why  the  hurry,  Morasch  ? "  Creighton 
asked. 

"  You're  all  right,  Mr.  Creighton.  You've  had 
things  handed  to  you  all  of  your  life,  but " 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  Creighton  interposed.  "  I 
have  had  things  handed  to  me  all  my  life,  as  you 
say.  I've  been  through  a  lot;  that's  why  I  want 
you  to  stay  by  the  game.  Easy-money  never  made 
a  man  happy,  useful  or  liked.  The  only  way  we 
can  keep  our  self-respect  is  by  doing  our  best. 
Have  you  ever  figured  out  the  difference  between 
a  common  man  and  a  great  one?  Lincoln  ate  and 
slept  just  as  we  do,  but  when  he  spoke  or  split 
rails,  he  made  that  one  job  great.  It  isn't  what 
men  do ;  it's  the  way  they  do  it." 

Suddenly  the  man  threw  his  hands  up  over  his 


112    VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

head.  "  I've  done  time !  "  he  cried.  "And  the 
warden's  in  camp !  " 

"  Morasch,  I'm  not  concerned  with  what  you 
have  done;  I'm  interested  in  what  you  are  doing. 
This  is  big  league  stuff.  You  could  put  steam  into 
the  game  if  you'd  try.  Give  yourself  a  try-out. 
You've  got  them  all  faded  for  ability.  Then,  too, 
it's  taken  for  granted  when  a  man  is  on  the  pay- 
roll, he'll  stick,  and  do  his  best.  This  is  your 
chance,  and  if  you  don't  come  through,  good- 
night." 

"  I'm  with  you,  Mr.  Creighton,"  said  the  man. 

"  Good !  "  said  Creighton,  and  as  the  fellow  left 
him,  his  head  dropped  and  he  sat  so,  thinking. 

"  What's  in  the  package,  Savitch?  "  he  asked,  as 
the  next  man  came  in.  The  fellow  had  dropped  a 
bundle  and  a  photograph  slipped  out. 

"  I'm  through !  "  said  the  man,  ignoring  the 
question.  "  Here's  her  letters  and  her  picture, 
and  back  they  go!  She  always  says  she  needs 
more  money  and  why  don't  I  send  more !  I've  got 
to  lose  her.  I've  quit  the  job — and  I'll  thank  you 
for  my  pay." 

"  Sit  down,  Savitch,"  said  Creighton.  After  a 
moment,  he  asked,  "  Is  what  she  writes  true  ? 
Couldn't  you  send  her  more  ?  " 

To  this  there  was  no  response. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  have  been  doing,"  con- 
tinued Creighton.  "  There's  a  proverb  that  says, 
'When  you're  cornered,  don't  lie:  ask  questions.' 


KAOBOWS  ON  PAEADB  113 

Savitch,  you  are  getting  money  enough  to  support 
yourself  and  your  wife,  and  do  it  handsomely. 
Why  all  this  fuss?  If  she's  asking  for  more  than 
she  needs,  find  out  why.  Get  at  the  truth.  I'll 
guarantee  that  all  she  wants  is  to  find  out  what 
you  get.  She  wants  what's  hers,  and  she's  right 
to  want  it  If  she's  asking  for  more  than  her 
share,  she'll  back  down,  when  she  understands. 
But  if  you're  just  peeved  with  her,  that's  a  luxury 
you  can't  afford.  Don't  be  in  a  hurry.  When 
people  figure  calmly  and  get  at  the  facts,  they  gen- 
erally stay  friends.  A  man  gives  mighty  little 
when  he  marries.  He  keeps  his  job,  gets  a  home 
where  he's  boss,  and  a  cook  and  a  nurse  and  chil- 
dren, if  he's  lucky.  How  about  a  woman?  She 
gets  the  dishes  and  the  scrubbing  and  the  washing 
— maybe  she  leaves  an  easier  job  in  some  office  to 
be  your  girl.  For  what !  To  run  the  risk  of  be- 
ing thrown  down  by  a  fellow  like  you,  then  where 
is  she?  You  asked  her!  She  didn't  ask  you! 
What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

While  Creighton  was  speaking,  Savitch  sat  lis- 
tening. The  picture  was  face  up  upon  the  floor. 

"  May  I  see  that  picture  ?  "  asked  Creighton. 
"  Your  wife  ?  "  he  asked,  after  he  had  looked  at  it. 

"  Yes." 

"  Savitch,  green  is£your  colour  all  right.  Man, 
listen  to  me!  If  that  is  a  picture  of  your  wife, 
you  ought  to  thank  God !  Here,  take  it !  Go  back 
to  your  room.  Write  her  a  letter.  Inclose  this 


114  VINDICATION  OF  EGBERT  CREIGHTON 

bill.  I  will  advance  it  on  your  next  pay  envelope. 
Win  her  all  over  again,  and  I'll  arrange  to  have 
her  come  here  and  live  with  you." 

The  man  considered.  "  I'll  do  it,  Mr.  Creigh- 
ton,  and  I  thank  you,"  came  the  reply. 

As  the  man  went  out,  Swen  entered,  very  much 
agitated.  "  Maester  Creighton,"  he  said,  "  dis 
ban  a  gude  chance  to  make  tings  vin.  Dis  har 
land  ban  all  made  over  new.  It  ban  a  big  yob,  but 
yu  do  it.  Ay  spose  us  guys  ban  a  tough  bunch, 
and  ay  spose  yu  like  to  quit,  maybe  often,  but  men 
all  ban  loyal  to  yu.  Da  all  say  yu  ban  a  gude  f aller 
to  them.  Ay  ant  hardly  know  vat  to  say,  Mr. 
Creighton.  Ay  ant  know  vat  to  say,  but  vat  for 
ban  reason  of  dat  deputy  from  bull  pen  to  be  in 
camp  ?  Mr.  Creighton,  yu  know  ay  ban  yust  a  tuf 
old  lumberyack.  Sum  pepul  tink  a  lumberyack 
faller  ban  yust  a  poor  sucker.  Val  maybe,  but  if 
dat  geezer  try  to  give  me  a  stall,  val,  ay  ban  raising 
hal  mighty  quick,  ay  tel  yu." 

At  mention  of  the  deputy,  Creighton  gave  Swen 
a  sharp  look.  It  was  the  same  look  that  had  passed 
between  them  the  evening  they  met  at  the  camp 
fire. 

"Vat  he  vant,  anyvay?"  Swen  continued,  re- 
turning an  understanding  glance.  "  I  see  bunch 
of  men  talk  low  an  sidestep  quick.  All  ackt  like 
horses  van  a  big  storm  come.  If  he  trow  monkey 
ranch  into  machinery,  he  get  his,  ay  tel  yu.  Sam 
say  to  me,  'Ay  tank  it  ban  a  shame  to  be  missing  a 


RAINBOWS  ON  PARADE  115 

fine  chance  to  give  dat  deputy  his.  Dar  ant  no 
place  in  dis  har  camp  for  him.  If  he  ban  vise  he 
vill  strike  retreat  before  ve  put  a  gude  crimp  in 
him.'  Leave  him  to  me  and  Sam,  Mr.  Creighton; 
leave  dat  guy  to  me  and  Sam,"  and  so  saying, 
Swen  departed  as  unceremoniously  as  he  had  en- 
tered. 

Creighton  now  sat  at  his  desk,  reviewing  the 
progress  of  the  work  with  Russell. 

When  Russell  was  about  to  leave,  he  turned  and 
said,  "  By  the  way,  is  there  a  man  in  camp  by  the 
name  of  Blackburn?  " 

Creighton  sat  for  a  moment  finishing  the  writ- 
ing in  which  he  was  engaged,  then  turning,  he 
looked  the  President  of  the  Board  in  the  face  and 
asked,  "  Why  ?  Who  wants  him  ?  " 

"  Just  as  I  came  in,"  Russell  replied,  "  I  met  one 
of  the  deputy  wardens  out  in  the  camp.  He  said 
he  was  trying  to  locate  Blackburn — and  several 
men.  He  thought  some  of  them  were  either 
here  or  in  the  camp  that  is  at  work  on  the  tun- 
nel." 

"  Send  him  in,"  said  Creighton. 

A  few  moments  later,  Warden  Delaney  came 
through  the  door  of  the  office.  Creighton  arose  to 
meet  him.  The  men  looked  at  each  other — neither 
spoke  a  word  for  a  moment. 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Creighton. 

"  By  the  eternal ! "  the  warden  exclaimed. 
"You!" 


116  VINDICATION  OF  EGBERT  CEEIGHTON 

"  Yes,  by  the  eternal — me !  "  Creighton  replied. 
"Sit  down!" 

"  You're  heading  up  this  project?  " 

"  Yes,  I'm  heading  up  this  project.    Sit  down!  " 

Creighton's  voice  was  quiet. 

"  You've  had  your  way  long  enough,  Delaney," 
he  said.  "  Now  you're  due  for  a  show-down. 
There  was  a  time  when  I  took  orders  from  you. — 
In  the  bull  pen,  I  lost  my  self-respect, — and  my 
name.  After  I  was  out,  it  was  a  fight  to  put  down 
all  I  remembered,  night  and  day!  Defeat  beat 
down  on  me.  No  gleam  of  hope  did  any  man  ever 
get  from  you  or  the  likes  of  you.  Not  a  man  goes 
out  of  your  hell  without  murder  in  his  heart. 
That's  because  he  thinks  you're  the  State.  Oh, 
you're  on  the  State  pay-roll,  because  your  brother's 
'  next ' !  But  you  couldn't  keep  a  dog-pound  on 
your  own  merits.  The  dogs  would  eat  you !  Now 
you  come  down  here  a  spotter.  And  I  wonder 
what  the  record  would  say  if  a  spotter  had  tracked 
you  during  the  last  twenty- four  hours !  On  collu- 
sion with  Fleck,  are  you?  He's  been  here!  But 
you  don't  need  to  squeal  on  yourself — your  face 
does  it! 

"  Now,  the  man  whose  name  you  mentioned  to 
the  President  of  the  Board  is  in  the  camp.  So  are 
others.  So  am  I.  Some  of  them  paroled,  some 
pardoned,  some  escaped,  some  have  served  their 
time.  All  these  men  are  making  good.  If  they 
lose  their  jobs,  I'll  know  why  and  so  will  you! 


BAINBOWS  ON  PARADE  117 

Now,  you  keep  your  mouth  shut  or  I'll  shut  it! 
And  I  tell  you  when  I  shut  it,  it's  shut  and  shut  to 
stay!  Now  get  out!  We  need  your  room." 

As  the  warden  left  the  office,  Russell,  who  was 
approaching,  paused  outside.  He  thought  he 
heard  Creighton  giving  orders,  then  a  silence  en- 
sued, and  he  noted  the  white-lipped  warden  as  he 
walked  away. 

That  any  man  should  hate  Creighton  seemed  in- 
credible. "  Things  have  been  going  too  well  to 
last,"  he  mused,  "  but  whatever  the  trouble  is,  I'll 
stand  by  Creighton,"  he  said,  and  entered  the 
office. 

"  You  heard  what  I  said  to  the  warden  ? " 
Creighton  inquired,  as  Russell  came  in,  arising 
from  his  desk  and  holding  a  paper  in  his  hand. 

"I  heard  parts  of  it,"  Russell  replied.  "I 
couldn't  make  out  what  you  were  saying." 

"  Here  is  my  resignation,"  said  Creighton,  hold- 
ing out  the  paper  in  his  hand.  "  I  have  just  writ- 
ten it ;  the  ink  isn't  dry." 

Russell  stood  looking  at  Creighton.  Both  his 
hands  were  jammed  into  his  trousers'  pockets,  as 
was  his  custom. 

'Your  resignation!"  Russell  repeated. 

"  Yes." 

"  Don't  say  any  more.  I  don't  know  what  has 
happened,  and  I  don't  care.  You  didn't  get  your 
job  by  a  pull,  and  you  have  earned  your  right  to 
hold  it.  You  owe  it  to  yourself,  you  owe  it  to  the 


118  VINDICATION  OF  ROBERT  CKEIGHTOST 

Board,  you  owe  it  to  the  men,  and  you  owe  it  to 
the  people  to  carry  this  project  through.  As  for 
the  warden,  I  don't  know  what  he  knows,  I  don't 
know  what  he  said,  and  I  don't  care  to  know! 
You  listen  to  me !  I'm  no  preacher,  but  the  Book 
says  the  Lord  casts  our  sins  into  the  sea,  and  if  He 
does  that,  why  cut  bait,  go  fish  for  them?  What 
man  dares  to  think  out  loud  ?  Not  the  best  of  us ! 
And  that's  nothing  against  us  either.  It  means 
that  some  things  are  ours  and  the  Lord's,  and  no- 
body else's!  Creighton,  this  is  your  stunt.  You 
know  the  work,  and  what's  more,  you  know 
men. 

"  We  have  just  made  arrangements  with  a 
movie  concern  to  film  the  whole  project.  Every- 
thing will  be  filmed  and  shown  around  the  world. 
Don't  lie  down  on  us !  You  are  making  good.  I 
believe  in  the  gospel  of  another  chance ;  so  do  you. 
We  all  live  by  faith — in  something.  Ultimately, 
we  have  to  trust  somebody,  and  we  trust  you,  im- 
plicitly." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Creighton,  simply.  "  Nev- 
ertheless, Mr.  Russell,  my  resignation  is  in  your 
hands  to  go  into  effect  any  time  it  will  help  you,  or 
serve  the  cause." 

Russell  tore  the  paper  up  and  threw  it  into  the 
waste-basket. 

"  It  will  be  time  enough  to  write  it  when  it  is 
called  for,"  he  said. 

Once  outside  the  office,  the  warden  had  walked 


ON  PAEADE  119 

slowly  across  the  camp  to  the  trail  where  he 
paused  a  moment  in  silence,  looking  into  va- 
cancy, mortification  written  upon  his  counte- 
nance. He  had  come  to  the  camp  to  spy  out 
a  few  men,  and  found  Creighton.  Into  his 
mind  had  sprung  the  hope  that  he  might 
blackmail  Creighton  into  silence,  for  Creighton 
knew  too  much.  But  he  had  mistaken  his 
man.  For  a  moment,  but  only  for  a  moment, 
a  startling  sensation  of  what  it  all  meant  shot 
through  his  mind.  What  Creighton  had  said  was 
right.  He  knew  its  truth  and  justice.  Here  he 
might  have  parted  with  his  double  dealing,  and  he 
would  have,  had  he  been  possessed  of  any  honour. 
But  this  was  the  one  thing  he  did  not  possess. 
Every  impulse  of  his  being  had  long  since  turned 
devil's  advocate.  The  whole  horizon  of  his  life 
was  narrowed  down  to  the  rim  of  a  piece  of 
money.  All  light,  save  the  light  of  cunning,  had 
long  since  gone  from  his  eye.  Now  he  faced  the 
mirror  of  truth  as  Creighton  had  held  it  up  to  him, 
and  there  was  a  puzzled  expression  in  his  coun- 
tenance, the  sign  of  bewilderment  that  comes  to 
the  man  who  has  been  suddenly  and  completely 
outdone  in  his  own  game. 

As  the  warden  crossed  the  camp,  Sam  was  com- 
ing in  to  make  a  report.  Sam's  quick  eye  detected 
the  fact  that  things  were  not  running  smoothly. 
He  saw  the  warden's  hand  slip  over  his  hip  pocket 
as  he  looked  to  the  right  and  left,  pausing  a  num- 


120  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

ber  of  times  on  his  way  to  the  trail  that  led  out  of 
the  camp. 

"  I'll  just  give  that  guy  the  once-over,"  said 
Sam  to  himself,  "  so  he  doesn't  miss  the  way," 
and  he  rolled  a  cigarette  and  sauntered  to  a  bluff 
that  gave  a  view  of  the  trail.  "  I've  got  a  hunch  I 
may  be  needed." 

Sam  always  followed  his  hunch,  as  he  called  it. 
He  believed  implicitly  in  his  great  hopes  and  fears. 
They  had  been  his  infallible  guides.  "  Results  are 
what  I'm  after,"  he  said,  and  he  generally  got  re- 
sults. And  so  he  believed  absolutely  in  the  in- 
tegrity of  his  mental  operations. 

"  I  don't  care  what  you  call  it,"  he  had  said, 
"  but  there's  something  in  every  man  with  gray 
matter  back  of  his  eye,  and  whatever  it  is,  it  won't 
lead  him  wrong,  if  he's  on  the  square." 

As  superintendent  of  the  tunnel  construction 
work,  Sam  was  popular  with  his  men.  The  best 
shot  in  the  camp,  he  had  additional  claim  to  their 
admiration  in  his  rugged  manliness,  his  prompt  de- 
cision and  his  honest  dealings.  As  he  came  around 
the  shoulder  of  the  hill,  he  saw  Jean  coming  along 
the  trail  about  a  mile  below. 

"Ah,  ha!  You  are  needed  now,  Mr.  Man." 
Sam  said,  as  he  hurried  his  pace.  In  a  few  mo- 
ments he  had  reached  a  point  from  which  he  could 
look  down  upon  the  trail  as  it  wound  around  and 
doubled  back  on  the  mountainside.  Here  he 
awaited  developments.  Presently,  Jean  appeared 


RAINBOWS  ON  PARADE  121 

on  the  lower  side  of  the  trail  turned  to  the  left, 
started  up  a  path,  the  whole  stretch  of  which  came 
under  his  range  of  vision  from  the  place  where  he 
was  waiting.  In  another  moment,  from  above, 
he  saw  the  deputy  going  down.  The  two  were 
now  approaching  each  other,  and  Sam  saw  the 
deputy  pause,  stand  in  the  center  of  the  trail  and, 
as  Jean  drew  near,  said  something. 

Jean  drew  back,  and  as  she  did  so,  Sam  saw  the 
deputy  catch  at  her  wrist,  and,  in  the  struggle, 
throw  his  arm  about  her. 

Sam  leaped  to  the  rescue,  not  waiting  to  round 
the  trail.  Instantly  the  men  grappled.  Now  Sam 
knew  the  cunning  holds  and  the  desperate  grips  of 
wrestling.  Moreover,  he  knew  how  to  bide  his 
time,  for  his  iron  muscles  never  failed  him.  Be- 
yond all  this,  he  was  defending  a  woman  and  his 
nerves  thrilled  with  power.  But  the  warden,  too, 
had  had  experience  in  grappling  with  men.  He 
knew  the  cruel  hammerlock  with  which  he  had,  on 
more  than  one  occasion,  broken  the  body  and 
spirit  of  a  prisoner  who  had  rebelled  against  the 
treatment  that  was  being  meted  out  to  him.  Sam 
and  the  warden  struggled.  They  swayed  among 
the  branches  that  overhung  their  heads.  It  was  a 
grim,  fierce,  silent  battle.  In  every  attempt  to  get 
the  deadly  hold  on  Sam,  the  warden  was  unsuc- 
cessful. Panting  for  breath,  he  realized  that  this 
was  an  occasion  where  bluff  would  not  carry  the 
day.  There  was  no  one  to  call.  No  guards  were 


122  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

near.  There  was  no  whistle  to  blow,  and  no  one 
to  respond  to  his  call  for  help,  and  man  to  man 
he  knew  that  he  was  being  outdone.  With  Sam, 
the  situation  had  passed  the  point  of  doubt,  if 
indeed  there  had  ever  been  a  doubt  in  his  mind  as 
to  the  outcome.  He  had  turned  his  ankle  in  the 
leap  and  it  pained  him  frightfully,  but  confident  in 
himself,  he  held  the  warden  until  the  ugly  face  was 
swollen,  and  the  neck  was  knotted  and  blue !  Jean 
looked  on  in  agonized  suspense.  Then  she  saw 
Sam's  arm  slip  beneath  the  warden's  shoulder  and 
around  his  neck;  he  set  his  grip  with  an  even 
deadlier  clutch,  until,  writhing  in  agony,  and  no 
longer  able  to  withstand  the  deadly  hold  of  his 
assailant,  the  warden  doubled  back  and  went  down. 
For  a  long  time  no  one  spoke,  while  Sam  stood 
over  his  late  antagonist,  strong  and  serene.  There 
was  no  sign  of  mercy  in  his  features.  At  last  he 
ordered  the  warden  to  rise,  and  that  unworthy 
slowly  got  to  his  feet,  trembling  with  exhaustion. 
His  coat  was  welted,  his  face  was  covered  with 
dust. 

Jean  drew  near,  and  as  she  stood  beside  Sam 
and  touched  his  arm,  she  said,  "  I  am — I  hope  you 
are— Is  he ?" 

"  Yes,  Jean,"  Sam  replied,  as  the  muscles  of  his 
face  relaxed  for  the  first  time.  "  I  am — and 

you  are — and  he  will  be "  Then  turning 

to  the  warden,  he  said,  "Apologize  to  the 
lady!" 


EAINBOWS  ON  PAEADB  123 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  the  warden  stammered,  in 
abject  obedience.  "  I " 

"  No  excuses,"  Sam  commanded.  "  Now  beat 
it !  "  Then  he  turned  to  Jean  and  said,  "  I  think 
it  will  be  all  right  for  you  to  go  up  to  the  office. 
Mr.  Creighton  is  waiting  for  you  and  will  be  glad 
to  see  you." 

Turning  to  the  warden,  Sam  said,  "  You  better 
make  your  get-away  before  Swen  gets  hold  of  you. 
What's  happened  to  you  isn't  a  circumstance  to 
what  you'll  get  if  he  gets  you!  Beat  it,  and  no 
loafing!" 

In  about  thirty  minutes,  the  warden  ought  to 
reach  a  point  on  the  trail  further  down.  Sam 
waited,  rolling  and  smoking  another  cigarette. 
Presently  the  warden  appeared,  limping  along  the 
way,  and  Sam  arose  and  started  up  the  trail. 

When  Jean  came  into  the  office,  not  a  little 
agitated,  she  found  Creighton  sitting  alone  at  his 
desk  absorbed  in  thought.  She  had  entered  so 
quietly  that  at  first  he  was  unaware  of  her  pres- 
ence. She  was  on  the  point  of  withdrawing,  fear- 
ing that  she  had  made  a  blunder  in  entering  un- 
announced, when  Creighton  looked  up  and,  seeing 
her,  said,  "  Jean,  I  thought  you  were " 

"  Mr.  Creighton,  excuse  me,  but  you  are  not 
sick,  are  you?  " 

"No,  Jean,  I'm  just Sit  down,"  he 

added.  "  Tell  me  about  Quinn." 

"  Mr.  Creighton,  since  the  news  about  the  Nor- 


124  VINDICATION  OF  BOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

man  reached  us,  I  have  waited,  hoping  against 
hope  that  Quinn  would  be  alive,  but  the  last  word 
from  the  Company's  office  is  that  the  Captain  and 
Quinn  were  on  board  when  the  ship  went  down, 
and  must  have  gone  down  with  her.  I  have 
promised  to  sing  for  the  men  to-night,  as  you 
know,  but  I  don't  see  how  I  can." 

Before  her,  as  she  stood  back  of  Creighton,  Jean 
saw  the  mottoes  that  hung  above  his  desk.  One 
read : 

"ALL  GLORIOUS  THINGS  ARE  DIFFICULT" 
and  the  other: 

"  THE  BEST  FUN  IN  LIFE  is  WORK." 

"  I  suppose  you  know  the  meaning  of  these  mot- 
toes," Jean  said,  after  a  pause.  "  It  is  because 
you  have  made  such  a  success  of  a  very  hard  under- 
taking that  all  men  honour  and  respect  you.  From 
the  day  Quinn  introduced  you  on  the  trail,  I  have 
always  associated  you  with  him  and  his  plans. 
Somehow,  I  seem  always  to  have  known  you. 
Your  voice  isn't  like  any  other  voice  I  have  ever 
heard,  but  it  seems  familiar.  When  I  look  into 
your  eyes,  your  glance  gives  me  a  sense  of  peace, 
and  hope  in  my  heart.  I  have  never  known  what 
it  is  to  have  a  father,  but  I  often  think  he  must 
have  been  a  man  like  you." 

Creighton  sat  in  his  chair  quietly.     Why  did  he, 


BAHSTBOWS  ON  PAKADE  125 

a  man,  sit  by  and  allow  this  girl  to  do  the  talking? 
She  needed  comfort.  She  wanted  some  one  in 
whose  presence  she  could  show  her  grief.  All  this 
Creighton  knew,  but  he  could  not  move.  The 
thought  of  Fleck,  on  the  one  hand,  and  of  Delaney, 
on  the  other,  unnerved  him. 

Then  he  thought  of  the  men  of  his  "  rainbow 
parade,"  with  whom  he  had  talked  that  morning, 
and  of  what  he  had  said  to  them.  Poor  things,  at 
best,  but  they  at  least  had  some  colour,  and  every 
shade  is  necessary  to  make  the  rainbow  that  spans 
the  sky  of  life  with  hope  and  beauty.  As  for  him- 
self, he  seemed  as  black  as  midnight — just  black 
despair.  He  dared  not  turn  to  face  her.  He 
could  not  meet  her  gaze.  The  thought  of  the 
warden  held  him,  and  made  him  helpless. 

Thus  they  remained  in  silence,  conscious  only 
that  their  hearts  were  beating. 

It  is  one  of  the  blessings  of  heaven  that  when 
the  strain  of  life  reaches  the  breaking  point,  relief 
comes  through  little  things.  In  the  midst  of  the 
tension  that  held  them  both,  Scotty  came  bounding 
through  the  door,  came  close  up,  looked  into 
Creighton's  face,  then  into  Jean's;  finally,  as  if 
sensing  the  situation,  he  sat  down  between  them, 
lowered  his  head  and  looked  at  them  solemn  and 
profound. 


XI 
THE  ENCHANTED  ISLAND 

AS  the  slow  days  passed,  Quinn  sought  to 
ease  the  friction  of  his  enforced  stay  in 
the  monastery  by  engaging  in  some  first- 
hand explorations  about  the  island.     He  walked 
to  the  opposite  shore.     He  went  to  the  south  end 
where  he  found  a  colony  of  seals  on  the  rocks. 
In  climbing  to  the  highest  peak,  an  elevation  of 
two  thousand  feet,  he  found  a  number  of  wild 
goats. 

In  the  bay  in  front  of  the  monastery,  the  water 
was  calm,  and  Quinn  noted  how  the  rocks  were 
covered  with  fields  of  kelp.  He  built  a  raft,  in 
the  center  of  which  he  framed  a  piece  of  window 
glass,  and  looking  through  it,  he  saw  a  water 
garden  of  gorgeous  proportions  and  colour.  He 
watched  the  purple  blossoms  of  the  sea  violets  as 
they  swayed  with  the  motion  of  the  water;  it 
reminded  him  of  fields  of  blowing  wheat.  He 
gathered  specimens  of  moss,  lavender  and  red, 
noting  how  they  permanently  retained  their  col- 
ours. He  watched  the  fish  as  they  passed  to  and 
fro  through  the  mosses,  and  remarked  on  how 
they  had  a  better  home  than  the  monks.  "  And 
happier  too,"  he  concluded. 

126 


THE  ENCHANTED  ISLAND  127 

"  If  I  had  chosen  to  do  this,"  he  mused,  as  he 
started  up  the  trail  to  the  monastery,  "  I'd  like  it ! 
But  having  had  no  choice  in  the  matter,  I  protest. 
This  is  strange,  different,  surprising,  but  I  don't 
want  it!  I  lack  the  spirit  of  adventure.  If  Jean 

were  here "  then  it  occurred  to  him  that  the 

monks  wouldn't  have  her  about. 

He  called  to  mind  the  story  of  the  monk's  life, 
his  love  and  disappointment.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  he  had  heard  that  same  old  story  sometime  or 
other,  before,  but  he  passed  it  by.  He  even  con- 
sidered the  monk  as  the  possible  "  Roberts  "  for 
whom  the  lost  letter  had  been  intended — had,  in- 
deed, gone  over  with  him  a  second  time  the  nature 
of  his  mission  thither;  and  to  his  conjectures,  the 
monk  had  lent  an  ever  attentive  ear  and  had  re- 
turned a  pious  comment  upon  the  dispensations  of 
Providence.  That  was  all!  And  no  one  else  at 
the  monastery,  upon  Qulnn's  inquiry,  had  declared 
a  knowledge  of  any  Roberts.  Quinn's  mission  to 
the  Isle  of  Patmos,  then,  had  proved  a  blind  alley. 
"  It's  a  part  of  life  as  it  is  lived  by  thousands  of 
people,  only  we  don't  know  the  individual  cases," 
he  said  to  himself. 

Often  he  went  to  a  quiet  corner  in  the  library, 
took  a  book,  and  in  a  spirit  of  impatience,  began 
to  turn  the  pages.  The  situation  was  beginning  to 
pall  upon  him ;  it  was  intolerable.  He  was  on  the 
point  of  closing  the  book  one  day,  when  he  noted 
the  words: 


128  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEBT  CEEIGHTOX 

"  Fretfulness  on  the  surface  is  the  out- 
ward mark  of  a  lack  of  depth  within." 

"  He  alone  is  heart-free  whose  affections 
center  in  God." 

"  To  set  our  hearts  on  things  beyond  our 
range  and  to  pretend  that  they  are  our  native 
heath  is  to  deceive  no  one  but  ourselves." 

"  Mental  vagueness  may  bring  a  momen- 
tary magical  happiness,  but  quietude  of  mind 
can  only  come  to  those  who  are  vividly  sen- 
sible of  the  claims  of  love,  service  and 
progress." 

As  Ouinn  read  each  paragraph,  now  deeply  in- 
terested, the  monk  drew  near  and,  unobserved, 
stood  beside  him.  He  was  pleased  to  see  Quinn 
sitting  among  the  books.  The  picture  brought  a 
smile  of  approval  to  his  countenance.  He  shot  a 
quick  glance  over  the  page  Ouinn  was  reading, 
waiting  for  Quinn  to  break  the  silence,  but  Quinn 
was  in  no  mood  to  talk.  Homesick  as  he  was,  he 
had  no  wish  to  be  treated  as  a  lost  sheep  or  a 
down-and-out.  He  felt  the  need  of  comradeship, 
but  any  professional  condescension  would  have 
huffed  him  beyond  endurance. 

"  I  love  these  old  volumes,"  the  monk  said 
finally,  as  Ouinn  returned  the  book  to  the  shelf. 
"Strange,  isn't  it,  how  history  repeats  itself? 
You  are  here  without  your  choosing  When  I  saw 
you  in  the  midst  of  these  books,  it  reminded  me  of 
Ezekiel.  When  Nebuchadnezzar  overran  the 
country  of  the  Jews  and  captured  Jerusalem,  he 


THE  ENCHANTED  ISLAND  129 

carried  away  many  of  the  people  into  captivity. 
Among  these  exiles  was  the  author  of  this  vol- 
ume. He  was  a  learned  man,  a  man  of  means  and 
ability,  and  was  let  to  live  in  his  own  house.  Many 
of  the  captives  came  to  him  for  encouragement. 
They  were  homesick,  as  you  have  been,  and  some 
of  them  gave  expression  to  their  longings  and  as- 
pirations in  some  of  the  finest  songs  and  hymns 

that  have  ever  been  written.    Listen  to  this " 

and  the  monk  read  impressively: 

"  '  By  the  rivers  of  Babylon,  there  we  sat 
down,  yea,  we  wept,  when  we  remembered 
Zion.' 

"  You  see,  my  son,"  the  monk  remarked,  as  he 
concluded  the  reading,  "  it  is  out  of  just  such  ex- 
periences as  these  that  the  great  things  in  life  and 
literature  have  arisen.  I  can  see  Ezekiel  collect- 
ing and  arranging  these  songs.  We  know  he  did 
this,  for  they  were  subsequently  sung  in  the  serv- 
ices of  the  temple.  Along  with  the  songs,  he  gath- 
ered the  stories  of  their  patriots,  the  traditions  of 
their  heroes,  the  precepts  of  their  fathers,  the  laws 
of  Moses,  the  symbolical  teachings  of  the  temple 
ritual,  the  liturgies  of  the  priests,  the  appeals  of  the 
prophets,  the  records  of  the  historians,  and  when 
the  exile  read  them,  they  stayed  his  heart.  This 
gave  him  the  historical  perspective,  the  right  view- 
point. He  saw  the  meaning  of  his  past.  A  new 
zest  inspired  him,  a  new  hope  possessed  him,  and 


130  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTOK 

when  he  returned  to  Jerusalem  with  his  fellows, 
he  continued  to  sing  these  songs,  and  to  read  with 
a  new  and  a  larger  meaning  the  laws  of  Moses, 
and  the  appeals  of  the  prophets.  These  writings 
became  his  sacred  heritage.  This  was  the  litera- 
ture they  read  in  the  synagogues.  This  was  the 
food  on  which  they  reared  their  children.  This 
was  their  Bible.  They  saw  in  it  the  hand  of  God. 
To-day  we  call  it  the  Old  Testament." 

"  Interesting!  "  Ouinn  exclaimed. 

!<  You  must  read  it  as  Ezekiel  and  the  people  of 
Israel  did,  in  the  light  of  its  historical  formation," 
the  monk  continued.  "  You  must  get  back  to  the 
spirit  of  the  times  out  of  which  it  came,  the  experi- 
ences and  the  places  where  the  various  parts  orig- 
inated, the  history  that  is  interwoven  in  the  record, 
the  men  who  were  the  authors." 

"  But  that  is  what  we  have  not  been  doing," 
Ouinn  replied.  "  As  I  understand  it,  a  council  of 
men  arranged  certain  books  and  called  them  the 
Old  Testament.  Why  couldn't  a  council,  equally 
reverent  and  learned,  give  us  an  arrangement  that 
would  eliminate  what  isn't  essential  to  us  to-day, 
and  leave  in  the  things  that  make  for  our  spiritual 
life  and  minister  to  our  present  religious  needs?" 

"  I  remember  my  own  questions  about  these 
things  when  I  was  your  age,"  the  monk  replied. 
"  I  was  greatly  troubled  about  them.  I  wanted  a 
guide,  but  like  yourself,  I  lost  myself  in  the  thick- 
ets. Then  one  day  I  read — '  Man  doth  not  live  by 


THE  ENCHANTED  ISLAND  131 

bread  only,  but  by  every  word  that  proceedeth  out 
of  the  mouth  of  the  Lord/ — I  paused  and  read 
again — '  by  every  word  that  proceedeth  out  of  the 
mouth  of  the  Lord  doth  man  live.'  What  are  the 
words  that  proceed  out  of  the  mouth  of  the  Lord, 
I  asked  myself.  I  began  to  write  them  down  as 
they  occurred  to  me — righteousness,  honour,  vir- 
tue, forgiveness,  patience,  fraternity,  love,  trust. 
These,  I  said,  are  the  things  by  which  men  live! 
Everything  that  helps  me  to  make  them  vital  to 
me  and  makes  them  a  part  of  my  life  is  the  voice 
of  God  to  me,  and  anything  that  lessens  their  hold 
upon  my  life,  I  will  put  aside.  You  suggested  that 
we  ask  a  company  of  scholars  to  eliminate  those 
things  that  are  only  of  passing  interest.  I  would 
leave  that  task  to  the  common  people.  I  would  ask 
them  what  portions  of  the  Old  Testament  they 
read,  and  why?  There  is  many  a  chapter  which 
nobody  reads  because  it  is  not  helpful,  and  many 
another  which  people  read  and  reread  again  and 
again  because  it  is  the  bread  of  life  to  their  souls." 
Reaching  across  the  table,  the  monk  took  up  a 
piece  of  parchment  and,  without  speaking,  began 
to  trace  upon  it  the  outline  of  a  college  campus. 
Turning  te  Ouinn,  he  said,  "  This  is  a  diagram  of 
my  old  quadrangle.  X  shows  the  place  of  some  of 
the  buildings  as  I  remember  them.  Now  let  us 
suppose  that  we  were  going  to  put  these  buildings 
to  new  or  different  uses.  This  " — pointing  to  an 
X  on  the  diagram,  "is  Memorial  Hall.  On  the 


132  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

walls  of  its  rooms  are  portraits  of  those  who  made 
the  olden  times  splendid.  Here  is  Abraham,  with 
whom  God  made  a  covenant;  and  Jacob,  the 
founder  of  a  nation;  and  Joseph,  who,  through 
suffering,  grew  great;  and  Moses,  the  liberator  of 
his  people;  and  Joshua,  who  led  them  into  the 
Land  of  Promise ;  and  Saul,  first  king  of  a  mighty 
monarchy;  and  Jeroboam,  leading  the  Ten  Tribes 
in  a  disastrous  revolt;  and  Ezekiel,  rallying  the 
people  in  a  return  to  their  native  land  after  seventy 
years  of  exile ;  and  Nehemiah,  who  led  in  the  work 
of  restoration  and  the  rebuilding  of  the  temple; 
and  Ezra,  who  rediscovered  the  long-lost  book  of 
the  laws ;  and  others  equally  worthy. 

"  The  records  of  their  deeds  is  put  down  in  a 
series  of  books  that  make  up  a  very  extensive 
library. 

"  Leaving  this  building,  we  come  to  another," 
and  the  monk  indicated  a  second  X.  "  This  is  the 
building  of  Dramatic  Art.  Here  a  great  drama  is 
being  given.  The  curtain  rises  upon  a  scene  of 
peace.  The  children  of  Job  have  come  together 
to  celebrate  a  birthday.  Suddenly  the  sky  darkens 
as  a  storm  sweeps  over  the  earth.  In  a  stroke,  the 
house  is  swept  from  its  moorings  and  the  children 
perish.  Thus  bereaved,  Job  is  left  standing  alone. 
A  messenger  rushes  in  to  say  that  a  company  of 
thieves  from  across  the  border  have  carried  away 
the  flocks  and  the  land  has  been  despoiled. 
Broken  in  health,  impoverished,  desolate,  Job  is 


THE  ENCHANTED  ISLAND  133 

now  chided  by  three  old  friends  who  insist  that  the 
calamity  is  due  to  some  secret  sin.  '  The  venge- 
ance of  God  has  overtaken  a  wrong-doer/  they 
say.  Together,  they  discuss  such  questions  as 
'  Why  does  a  righteous  God  allow  suffering  to 
come  upon  a  good  man  ? '  Through  it  all,  Job 
maintains  his  faith  in  God,  and  in  the  end  is 
restored  to  health  and  power.  The  text  of  the 
drama  is  preserved  in  what  is  known  as  the  Book 
of  Job. 

"  The  next  is  the  Hall  of  Music.  Here  is  a 
leader  of  men.  As  a  boy,  he  was  a  shepherd. 
Now  he  is  the  Singer  of  Songs !  David !  He  com- 
mands a  host !  At  his  word,  four  thousand  voices 
blend  in  symphony.  Softly,  and  in  rhythmic 
peacefulness,  they  chant: 

"  '  The  Lord's  my  Shepherd,  I'll  not  want.' 

They  are  called  the  Book  of  Psalms. 

"  Now,"  said  the  monk,  "  we  come  to  this  plain 
building,"  indicating  the  fourth  X  on  the  diagram. 
"  It  is  the  School  of  Commerce.  Here  is  Solomon. 
Out  of  his  own  experience,  he  has  gathered  for  us 
the  words  of  wisdom  of  the  marts.  These  are  pre- 
served in  a  book  called  the  Book  of  Proverbs. 

"  Now  to  the  chapel !  Here,  preachers  hold 
their  high  discourse.  The  volumes  in  which  these 
addresses  are  preserved  are  called  Ruth,  Esther 
and  Ecclesiastes. 

"  Leaving  the  chapel  and  stairs,  we  come  to  the 


134  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

Place  of  Stars.  Here  are  the  seers.  Isaiah  pro- 
claims the  majesty  of  God.  In  the  Heavens,  Jere- 
miah sees  the  rise  of  a  greater  king !  Ezekiel  reads 
the  new  order  that  follows  God's  commands. 
Daniel  shows  the  destiny  of  Empires.  These 
books  are  called  the  Books  of  the  Prophets. 

"  The  other  day,"  the  monk  continued,  "  you 
asked  me  about  this  enchanted  island,  to  know 
wrhere  you  were. 

"  This,  my  son,  is  the  Island  of  Patmos.  This 
is  St.  John  Monastery.  To  this  place,  the  Be- 
loved Disciple  was  banished.  Here,  mark  you, 
John,  the  disciple  whom  Jesus  loved,  was  seen. 
Here,  was  his  vision  of  the  City  from  Heaven, 
lighted  with  the  presence  of  God,  the  abode  for 
His  happy  people. 

"  John  was  the  last  of  the  Apostles,"  the  monk 
continued.  "  In  his  latter  days,  he  told  the  story 
of  his  life  with  our  Master.  These  sayings  were 
heard  and  recorded  by  the  men  who  heard  him. 
So  also  wrote  Matthew,  Mark  and  Luke.  Peter 
and  Paul  and  others  wrote  letters  telling  their  ex- 
periences and  the  truths  the  Master  taught.  These 
writings  were  prized  by  those  who  had  them. 
They  were  exchanged  by  groups  of  Christians  to 
whom  they  were  written,  and  read  when  they  came 
together  to  worship." 

The  monk  now  seated  himself  at  the  table,  and 
taking  up  the  parchment  on  which  he  had  drawn 
the  quadrangle,  said,  "We  must  finish  our  pilgrim- 


THE  ENCHANTED  ISLAND  135 

age.  Here  stands  the  Palace  of  Art.  Here  are 
four  great  artists  at  work.  Matthew  portrays  his 
Master — the  Messiah  of  the  Jews:  to  Mark,  He  is 
the  Man  of  Action:  Luke  knows  Him  as  Friend 
and  Teacher:  John  paints  Him  as  Reason;  for  the 
background  we  have  the  gleaming  threshold  of 
eternity.  Each  artist  supplements  the  other. 
These  teachings  of  the  Master  are  the  Gospels. 

"  Here  is  the  Hall  of  Epistles — the  Correspond- 
ence School.  From  this  building,  letters  are  sent 
to  the  various  groups  who  believed. 

"  And  this  building,"  said  the  monk,  pointing  to 
an  X,  "  is  the  Hall  where  degrees  are  conferred. 
These  fall  in  an  unusual  manner;  to  one,  for 
draught  of  Love  in  the  name  of  the  Master;  to 
another,  the  honour  is  given  with  the  words — '  In- 
asmuch as  ye  did  it  unto  the  least  of  these  ' ;  while 
still  another  receives  his  award  with  *  Thou  hast 
been  faithful.' 

"  You  see,"  the  monk  added,  "  the  Bible  is  not 
a  book,  but  a  collection.  And  it  is  pitiful  to  think 
how  little  people  know  of  this  greatest  collection 
of  books  the  world  has  ever  known.  It  is  real! 
Its  teachings  fit  our  need!  Never  will  they  lose 
their  hold  on  the  heart  and  brain  of  men.  And 
for  all  the  world  of  men  may  write  and  say  from 
now  to  eternity,  never  will  a  clearer  revelation  of 
duty  be  given  it  than  lives  in  the  words — *  Thou 
shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God,  with  all  thy  heart, 
and  thy  neighbour  as  thyself/  '  For  God  so  loved 


136  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

the  world  that  He  gave  His  only  begotten  Son 
that  whosoever  believeth  in  Him  should  not  perish 
but  have  everlasting  life,'  *  Come  unto  me  all  ye 
that  labour  and  are  heavy  laden  and  I  will  give 
you  rest;  take  my  yoke  upon  you  and  learn  of  me, 
for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart,  and  ye  shall  find 
rest  unto  your  souls.' ' 

Quinn  started.  "  When  is  a  man  a  Christian?  " 
he  asked  in  impulse  no  longer  to  be  controlled. 

"  When  he  turns  to  Christ,"  explained  the 
monk.  "  When  he  feels,  in  his  being,  a  desire  to 
do  his  best.  When  he  knows  that  the  world  goes 
from  him  in  a  dream  of  horror,  if  he  does  not  find 
himself.  When  a  wish  for  brotherhood  assails 
him  and  will  not  be  put  down.  When  oneness  with 
the  spirit  of  God,  which  is  Christ,  will  satisfy  him 
and  nothing  else,  then  he  is  ready  to  become  a 
Christian." 

Thus,  far  into  the  night,  Quinn  and  the  monk 
talked.  There  was  no  hesitation,  no  embarrass- 
ment. Quinn  remembered  to  have  longed  for  an 
opportunity  to  speak  with  some  one,  and  when  the 
monk  arose  to  go  to  his  room  and  said,  "  You 
have  still  to  see  the  most  wonderful  thing  on  our 
island,"  Quinn  thrilled.  "  Yes,"  the  monk  replied, 
in  answer  to  Quinn's  inquiring  look,  "  I  will  show 
it  to  you  and  tell  you  about  it,  but  now  I  bid  you 
good-night,  my  son." 

"  Good-night,"  Quinn  answered,  the  spell  of  the 
monk's  spirit  still  upon  him. 


'  XII 
A  CAMP  FORUM 

ONCE  a  week  Creighton  conducted  an  open 
forum.     The  men  assembled  in  a  large 
hut  that  was  used  as  a  recreation  room. 
At  one  end,  beside  the  fireplace,  was  a  piano,  and 
from  the  other  end  of  the  hut  a  moving  picture 
machine  threw  pictures  on  the  screen  that  was 
strung  across  the  back  of  the  stage.     Along  the 
sides  of  the  room  and  around  the  fireplace  were 
tables  with   books   and   writing  materials.     Just 
above  the  stage  were  the  words: 

OUR  SLOGAN 

For  Human  Welfare 

Where  Patriots,  Freeman,  Brothers  Meet 
Count  Me  One 

No  gathering  of  the  men  was  more  popular  or 
more  largely  attended  than  the  forum.  Generally 
a  good  movie  reel  was  run  through.  This  was 
followed  with  a  "  sing,"  in  which  the  words  of 
popular  songs  were  thrown  upon  the  screen. 
Sometimes  an  outside  speaker  was  brought  in  to 
speak  twenty  minutes,  then  in  the  open  meeting 
that  followed,  the  men  spoke  and  asked  questions. 
There  were  many  well-informed  men  in  the  camp, 

137 


138  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

and  any  speaker  who  dealt  in  generalities  without 
having  facts  to  verify  his  statements  was  sure  to 
get  himself  into  trouble. 

One  evening  as  the  men  came  into  the  hut,  they 
were  given  a  slip  of  paper  on  which  three  ques- 
tions had  been  printed.  "  These  questions,"  said 
the  folder,  "  will  form  the  basis  ol  the  evening's 
discussion."  The  questions  were: 

"  1.     What  do  you  most  want? 

2.  What  is  the  cause  of  the  tragedy 

of  life? 

3.  Who  is  educated?" 

"  All  right,  men,"  said  Creighton,  after  the  pre- 
liminaries were  over.  "  What  interest,  if  any, 
have  we  in  these  questions?  How  do  they  affect 
us?  A  matter  comes  to  be  a  very  big  matter  if  it 
is  your  matter.  When  things  touch  us,  they  be- 
come important.  Your  wedding  day,  if  you  ever 
had  one,  was  a  circumstance  worth  talking  about. 
Your  birthday  is  a  big  day  in  the  calendar.  Let 
us  take  up  the  questions  in  order.  '  What  do  you 
most  want  ? ' 

"  Money,"  answered  one  of  the  men. 

"  Health,"  replied  another. 

"  I  want  to  be  happy,"  said  a  third. 

"  Success,"  responded  a  fourth. 

"  Power,"  said  another. 

"  Some  men  want  office,  and  honour,"  still  an- 
other said. 


A  CAI\IP  FORUM  139 

"  Let  us  gather  the  answers  together,"  said 
Creighton,  after  a  pause.  "  Men  want  to  be  happy, 
and  they  think  that  health,  wealth,  honour,  office, 
or  power  will  make  them  happy.  But  the  thing 
that  would  make  one  man  happy,  the  other  doesn't 
want.  Every  man  must  get  the  thing  he  wants, 
and  he  must  get  it  when  he  wants  it,  and  in  the 
right  way.  This,  he  calls  success  because  he  thinks 
it  will  make  him  happy.  Would  it  be  true  to  say 
that  success  is  the  product  of  success  methods,  and 
that  failure  is  the  result  of  failure  methods,  and 
that  success  means  not  simply  getting  things, 
but  real  success  means  keeping  yourself  in- 
spired ? 

"  There  are  some  men  whom  no  one  can  get 
along  with;  they  sulk.  There  are  some  men  with 
whom  a  few  people  can  get  along;  these  get  along 
with  them  because  they  cater  to  their  whims. 
Then  there  are  some  men  with  whom  everybody 
can  get  along ;  they  can  go  the  whole  circle  of  class, 
creed,  and  nationality;  these  are  the  masters,  the 
leaders  of  men.  A  man  must  be  as  big  as  the  thing 
he  wants.  The  point  of  attraction  must  be 
stronger  than  the  thing  attracted. 

"  Second  question:  "  Creighton  exclaimed. 
"'What  is  it  that  causes  the  tragedy  of  life?' 
This  question,  I  take  it,  does  not  refer  to  the 
troubles  that  bad  men  get  themselves  into.  It  re- 
fers rather  to  the  friction,  the  sorrow,  the  disap- 
pointments, that  come  into  the  lives  of  just  such 


140  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEKT  CKEIGHTON 

men  as  we  are.  What  is  it  that  causes  this  trag- 
edy?" 

"  Not  getting  a  square  deal,"  shouted  one  of 
the  men  from  the  rear. 

"  Ignorance,"  said  another. 

"  Misfits,"  replied  a  third. 

"  Poverty,"  exclaimed  a  fourth. 

"  Oppression,"  said  a  man  with  a  loud  voice. 

"  I  do  not  know  how  it  is  with  you,"  Creighton 
said,  filling  in  a  pause,  "  but  my  observations  lead 
me  to  conclude  that  most  of  the  tragedy  of  life 
comes  from  what  one  of  our  friends  has  called 
'  misfits.'  A  square  peg  in  a  round  hole,  a  round 
peg  in  a  square  hole.  A  man  doing  something  for 
which  he  is  not  fitted,  spending  his  days  on  a  job 
in  which  he  has  no  interest,  working  at  a  thing 
that  doesn't  capture  his  imagination,  going  through 
the  day  in  a  wooden  way,  dead  on  his  feet,  on  a 
job  that  doesn't  get  him. 

"  Here's  a  man,  for  example,  who  loves  out- 
of-doors  work.  He  is  a  rancher.  He  loves  to  get 
up  at  four  in  the  morning  and  go  out  and  milk 
thirty  or  forty  cows  before  breakfast." 

"  Hooray !  "  interrupted  a  sturdy  young  fellow. 
"That's  me!" 

"  He  knows  how  to  rotate  crops,"  Creighton 
continued,  without  heeding  the  interruption,  "  he 
analyzes  the  mineral  elements  of  the  soil,  he  likes 
to  see  things  grow,  he  fits  into  his  job,  and  he  is 
happy.  But  you  men  in  the  drafting  room  would 


A  CAMP  FOKUM  141 

starve  to  death  on  a  farm,  and  the  farmer  would 
feel  like  a  sardine  in  a  box  in  your  department. 
The  photographer  who  is  taking  the  pictures  of 
our  work  for  a  movie  reel  belongs  to  an  entirely 
different  class.  He  sees  the  beauty  of  the  scenery 
that  is  back  of  the  practical  work  we  are  doing, 
and  the  pictures  will  entertain  and  inform  those 
who  see  them. 

"  Get  the  thing  that  fills  your  heart,  then  go  to 
it,  then  stay  by  it,  and  there  won't  be  much  trouble. 
When  you  find  a  man  who  enjoys  his  work,  you 
will  always  find  a  happy  man.  He  doesn't  want 
the  other  man's  job,  nor  the  other  man's  pay,  nor 
the  other  man's  pull,  nor  the  other  man's  any- 
thing. 

"Third  question:  'Who  is  educated?'  All 
right,  men,  what  about  it?  Is  the  human  mind 
averse  to  learning?  Are  people  anxious  to  know? 
Have  men  a  desire  for  knowledge  ?  Who  is  edu- 
cated?" 

'  The  man  who  has  the  facts,"  answered  one. 

'  The  man  who  can  tell  what  he  knows,"  replied 
another. 

"  The  man  who  has  travelled,"  said  a  third. 

"  The  man  who  has  a  diploma,"  replied  a 
fourth. 

"  The  man  who  knows  men,"  said  the 
next. 

"  The  man  who  can  think  a  thing  out  for  him- 
self." 


142  VINDICATION  OF  EGBERT  CEEIGHTON 

Thus,  the  replies  came  from  every  part  of  the 
hut. 

"  Let  us  gather  the  replies  together  and  see  what 
we  have,"  said  Creighton.  "  '  Education/  it  has 
been  said,  '  is  the  process  of  making  up  the  dis- 
crepancy between  the  child  at  his  birth  and  the 
man  as  he  will  need  to  be.'  How  are  you  going  to 
make  up  that  discrepancy?  Did  your  school  days 
doit?" 

"  No!  No!  "  shouted  several  of  the  men  in  uni- 
son. 

"  The  trouble  with  my  school  days,  as  I  recall 
them,  was  the  forced,  unnatural  order  of  things. 
I  was  restless,  impatient  and  indifferent  before  the 
work  began.  The  very  thought  of  school  made  me 
rebellious.  The  majority  of  children  in  our  cities 
haven't  an  idea,  for  example,  where  the  food  they 
eat  comes  from.  People  in  cities  live  from  cans; 
their  chief  tool  is  the  can-opener.  These  children 
should  be  given  some  practical  education.  They 
ought  to  be  taught  to  be  producers. 

"  When  the  average  man  thinks  of  culture,  he 
thinks  of  something  impractical.  Of  course  he  is 
wrong,  and  yet  he  is  justified  in  thinking  of  cul- 
ture in  that  way  because  many  so-called  cultured 
people  are  ignorant  of  the  practical  concerns  of 
life.  Culture  is  the  thing  which,  if  a  man  thinks  he 
has  it,  he  hasn't!  If  a  man  has  travelled,  met  peo- 
ple, read  books,  and  reflected,  he  is  cultured.  Cul- 
ture is  self -improvement! 


A  CAMP  FOKUH  143 

"  One  of  the  men  said  that  '  a  man  who  had  a 
diploma  was  educated.'  If  a  man  has  a  diploma  or 
a  degree  from  an  accredited  institution,  it  means 
that  he  has  done  a  certain  amount  of  work  reason- 
ably well.  But  we  might  as  well  be  honest  about 
it,  for  everybody  knows  it's  true.  There  are  thou- 
sands of  men  all  over  our  country  who  have  di- 
plomas, and  if  their  diplomas  were  written  as  they 
should  be,  they  would  read — '  This  is  a  receipt  for 
a  four  years'  board  bill  which  his  father  paid  for 
him  while  he  was  away  from  home.'  Such  men 
are  not  fitted  for  anything.  They  lack  determina- 
tion. 

"  Education  means  the  ability  to  dig,  and  they 
can't  dig.  If  you  want  the  facts,  you  have  to  dig 
for  them.  If  you  want  a  vocabulary,  you  have  to 
dig  for  it.  If  you  want  a  good  name,  you  have  to 
dig  for  it.  If  you  want  anything  that  makes  life 
self-respecting,  you  must  dig  for  it.  We're  use- 
ful or  useless,  liked  or  disliked,  just  as  we  dig  for 
ourselves.  I  call  that  glorious ! 

"  Education  means  getting  at  the  truth.  Truth 
is  right  relationship.  Get  the  right  relationship  to 
fire,  and  it  will  warm  you  and  cook  your  food ;  get 
the  wrong  relationship  to  fire  and  it  will  burn  you. 
Get  the  right  relationship  to  water  and  it  will 
cleanse  you  and  quench  your  thirst ;  get  the  wrong 
relationship  to  water  and  it  will  drown  you.  Get 
the  right  relationship  to  electricity  and  it  will 
change  your  darkness  into  daylight,  send  your  car 


144  VINDICATION  OF  EGBERT  CREIGHTON 

spinning  across  the  country,  and  turn  the  wheels 
of  commerce;  get  the  wrong  relationship  to  elec- 
tricity, it  will  kill  you. 

"  Now  for  the  forum,"  said  Creighton.  "  What 
have  you  to  say  ?  " 

"  I  like  your  talk,  Mr.  Creighton,"  said  a  man 
as  he  stepped  to  the  platform.  "  I  like  the  way 
you  sum  things  up.  You  didn't  talk  down  to  us, 
and  you  didn't  hand  us  any  sob  stuff,  but  it  seems 
to  me  that  you  didn't  go  far  enough.  It's  a  crime 
in  a  day  like  this  to  look  back,  and  it's  common- 
place to  stand  still.  We've  got  to  go  forward. 
We've  got  to  shake  off  the  yoke  of  economic 
bondage,  break  through  the  narrow  limits  of  con- 
ventionality, and  tear  away  the  bands  of  supersti- 
tion with  which  the  spirit  of  man  is  being  bound. 
Think  of  the  poor  devils  in  the  cities!  What  do 
they  get  out  of  life?  I  don't  care  if  it  is  their 
fault:  they're  not  bad,  they're  just  weak,  and  any- 
way, they're  human  beings.  Think  of  the  children 
shivering  on  the  edge  of  want,  living  like  second- 
hand junk  peddlers.  It's  a  miserable  existence,  I 
tell  you.  Do  you  call  that  a  democracy  ?  " 

"  I'm  not  ready  to  answer  the  question  of  our 
friend,"  said  one  of  the  men,  coming  forward. 
"  People  are  learning,  not  from  books,  nor  from 
the  politicians,  but  from  their  own  experience,  that 
there  must  be  a  new  accounting  of  the  means  of 
production  and  distribution.  We've  got  to  make  a 
new  definition  of  what  we  mean  by  '  capital.'  Up 


A  CAMP  FOEUM  145 

to  now,  wealth  used  to  assist  in  production  Is  called 
capital;  money  employed  in  trade  is  called  capital. 
But  ability  to  work  is  also  capital ;  personal  power 
is  capital.  Up  to  the  present  time,  great  organi- 
zations have  controlled  the  output  and  the  distri- 
bution of  the  means  of  life.  These  organizations 
must  be  taken  out  of  the  hands  of  the  few,  and 
placed  in  the  hands  of  the  government,  to  admin- 
ister them  for  the  good  of  the  whole  population. 
We  wouldn't  think  of  turning  over  to  a  private 
corporation  a  contract  to  manufacture  the  postage 
stamps  and  the  post-cards  that  are  used  in  the  post- 
office  department.  We  would  never  think  of  let- 
ting a  private  corporation  print  our  greenbacks, 
nor  mint  our  gold  and  silver  and  copper  money. 
The  government  coins  the  money,  prints  the 
stamps  and  the  post-cards,  and  controls  the  delivery 
of  the  mail.  Because  of  this,  we  can  send  a  letter 
anywhere  in  the  United  States  for  two  cents. 
How  much  do  you  think  it  would  cost  to  send  that 
same  letter  if  it  were  carried  by  a  private  corpora- 
tion? 

"  Now,  if  it  is  a  good  thing  to  have  the  govern- 
ment deliver  the  letters,  why  isn't  it  an  equally 
good  thing  to  have  the  government  deliver  the 
telegrams  ?  And  why  isn't  it  a  good  thing  to  have 
the  telephone  exchange  and  the  telegraph  office  in 
the  same  building  with  the  post-office,  and  under 
one  management?  They  are  all  common  carriers, 
and  if  it  is  a  good  thing  to  have  one  under  govern- 


146  VINDICATION  OF  ROBERT  CRP^IGHTON 

ment  control,  why  isn't  it  an  equally  good  thing  to 
have  them  all  under  government  control?  The 
reason  why  they  are  not  under  government  control 
isn't  a  good  reason.  The  coal  under  the  ground  is 
locked-up  sunlight ;  we  take  it  out  and  burn  it,  we 
release  the  sunlight  and  keep  comfortable.  There 
is  no  more  reason  why  the  sunlight  under  the 
ground  should  be  controlled  by  a  private  corpora- 
tion than  that  the  sunlight  that  comes  with  the 
dawn  should  be  in  the  hands  of  a  private  cor- 
poration. If  some  men  had  their  way,  they  would 
put  a  meter  on  every  sunbeam  that  strikes  the 
earth,  and  charge  you  for  it.  We  now  have  the 
rural  free  delivery.  Why  can't  the  parcel  post 
handle  all  of  the  express  business  just  as  well  as 
fifty  per  cent,  of  it?  There  are  eight  trunk  lines 
crossing  the  country,  all  of  them  common  carriers ; 
it  is  possible  for  these  eight  lines  to  be  managed 
far  better  under  one  control  than  under  the  pres- 
ent competitive  system.  Why  not  have  a  Secre- 
tary of  Railroads  and  Transportation  in  the  Presi- 
dent's cabinet?  Oh,  I  know  you're  saying  it  can't 
be  done.  If  any  man  tells  you  it  can't  be  done, 
ask  him  who  built  the  railroad  in  Alaska,  ask  him 
who  put  through  the  biggest  engineering  project 
on  this  planet.  Uncle  Sam  put  his  foot  on  a  spade 
and  dug  the  Panama  Canal ;  he  spent  four  hundred 
millions  of  dollars,  without  a  penny  of  graft  or  a 
whisper  of  scandal.  You  ask  what  men  most 
want?  This  is  what  they  want." 


A  CAMP  FOEUM  147 

As  the  speaker  took  his  seat,  a  man  known 
throughout  the  camp  as  "  the  Judge,"  came  to  the 
platform.  After  the  applause  had  subsided,  he 
said: 

"  The  gentleman  who  has  just  spoken  made  a 
very  fine  plea  for  government  control.  He  wants 
the  seats  cushioned,  the  springs  oiled,  shock  ab- 
sorbers, the  tires  inflated,  the  roads  macadamized, 
and  when  this  is  done  he  will  want  predigested 
food,  ask  the  government  to  take  care  of  us,  and 
the  result  of  that  kind  of  paternalism  will  be  a 
banana  civilization  without  pep  or  individual  in- 
itiative. I  hate  to  see  intelligent  men  doing  all 
they  can  to  put  a  premium  on  mediocrity.  It  isn't 
honest.  It's  like  comparing  the  desire  to  grow 
rich  with  the  enterprise  of  picking  a  man's  pocket. 
The  state  has  always  been  the  instrument  of  rob- 
bery, the  organ  of  oppression.  That  is  why  gov- 
ernments are  mistrusted  and  rulers  hated.  We 
have  in  our  country  a  rough-hewn  idealism.  It 
is  the  incentive  to  every  man  to  do  his  best.  This 
joy  of  putting  the  thing  over  and  the  assurance 
of  a  substantial  reward  for  successful  achievement 
has  been  our  salvation ;  it  has  made  us  great. 

"  Our  friend  talks  about  cooperation,  but  as  he 
conceives  it,  it  is  all  '  co  '  and  no  '  operation.'  In 
a  democracy,  a  man  is  limited  only  by  his  native 
ability  and  his  willingness  to  work.  Take  away 
the  just  rewards  of  personal  ability  and  individual 
effort,  and  you  cut  the  nerve  of  all  endeavour  and 


148  VINDICATION  OF  EGBERT  CREIGHTON 

initiative.  It  is  better  to  have  a  government 
chosen  by  all  the  people  to  execute  their  wishes, 
and  thus  set  the  individual  free  to  make  the  most 
of  himself,  while  all  work  together  to  realize  the 
common  ideals  of  a  cooperative  brotherhood." 

Long  before  he  reached  the  platform,  the  next 
man  began  by  saying: 

"  I  have  seen  a  bunch  of  newsboys  huddled  to- 
gether over  the  grate  above  the  boiler  room,  their 
arms  and  legs  intertwined  like  a  pile  of  angle- 
worms. I  have  seen  girls  at  work  in  an  overall 
factory,  making  three  blouses  a  day  and  earning 
forty-five  cents.  I  have  seen  mines  explode  with 
astonishing  regularity.  But  I  read  the  speeches  of 
some  of  our  great  orators,  and  it  is  all  milk  and 
honey  and  wine  and  wind;  there  is  no  hint  or  al- 
lusion that  there  is  grief  or  poverty  anywhere. 
Now,  no  man  can  consider  these  things  without 
recognizing  the  truth  of  the  terrible  indictment 
that  can  be  brought  against  the  economic  situation 
that  exists  in  our  land,  and  for  that  matter,  all 
over  the  world." 

The  man  concluded  his  speech  as  abruptly  as 
he  had  begun.  Some  moments  elapsed  before  an- 
other one  of  the  men  volunteered  to  take  up  the 
discussion.  Presently  a  man  by  the  name  of  Me- 
thune  walked  slowly  down  the  aisle.  He  was 
known  throughout  the  camp  as  the  man  who  could 
cut  trees  as  clean  as  a  beaver,  throw  his  tree  over 
the  stump  in  any  direction  he  chose;  and  because 


A  CAMP  FORUM  149 

he  "  delivered  the  goods,"  commanded  respect 
from  all  the  men. 

"I'm  not  so  sure  that  I  can  tell  you  what  is  in 
my  mind,"  he  said.  "  When  I  went  to  school  as 
a  boy,  I  had  no  interest  whatever  in  my  studies. 
When  I  came  West  and  located  a  government 
claim,  I  couldn't  figure  how  much  lumber  it  would 
take  to  fence  in  an  acre  of  ground  or  build  a  corn 
crib.  I  didn't  know  what  kind  of  farm  crops  went 
with  different  kinds  of  stock.  I  could  not,  in  any 
way,  relate  the  studies  of  my  school  days  to  my 
work  on  the  farm.  I  had  to  begin  all  over  again. 
But  I  can't  see  why  we  should  think  of  the  uni- 
verse as  being  exhausted.  We  common  people  are 
not  degenerates.  Deep  down  in  our  hearts,  below 
our  surface  differences,  every  man  believes  in  the 
great  ideals  of  liberty,  justice,  fraternity  and 
equality.  All  that  we  want,  all  that  we  insist  upon 
is  that  the  claims  of  the  individual  shall  be  put 
above  the  rights  of  property.  You  ask,  who  is 
educated  ?  I'll  tell  you.  Any  man  who  can  make 
us  see  the  high  destiny  to  which  we  are  called,  and 
who  can  point  out  that  destiny  so  clearly  that  all 
men  will  see  it  and  be  willing  to  push  their  inter- 
ests to  make  that  destiny  more  than  a  dream,  that 
man  is  educated,  and  as  for  the  rest  of  us,  we  are 
ready  to  go  to  school  to  him." 

"  Something  has  been  said,"  remarked  a  man, 
coming  to  the  platform,  "  about  working  on  a 
job  that  gets  you  and  going  after  the  thing  that 


160  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

fills  your  heart.  That's  a  good  idea,  only  it  won't 
work.  In  every  job,  there  are  a  lot  of  things  that 
simply  have  to  be  done  which  do  not  capture  one's 
imagination.  I  suppose  the  average  woman 
doesn't  just  bubble  over  with  enthusiasm  in  wash- 
ing dishes  three  times  a  day:  nevertheless,  she  does 
it  because  it  is  a  necessary  part  of  home  life.  The 
sewers  of  the  world  have  to  be  dug:  but  I  don't 
suppose  that  it  is  all  poetry  to  the  men  who  do  the 
work.  The  fact  is  that  the  man  who  never  does 
anything  he  doesn't  like,  never  likes  anything  he 
does." 

"  And  another  thing  was  said,"  remarked  a  tall, 
well-built  man  with  an  intelligent  face,  "  that  lis- 
tens good,  but,  as  my  friend  Cornell  has  just  said, 
*  it  won't  work.'  The  statement  has  been  made 
that  a  man  can  do  anything  he  wants  to  do  if  he 
works  according  to  the  laws  of  success,  the  infer- 
ence being  that  if  a  man  only  puts  energy  enough 
into  the  thing  he  undertakes,  the  returns  will  be 
unlimited.  That  is  true  only  up  to  a  certain  point, 
and  if  we  are  not  careful,  we  are  going  to  get  in 
wrong.  Let  me  show  you  what  I  mean.  If  you 
sow  a  half  bushel  of  wheat  to  the  acre,  you  will 
reap  five  bushels ;  if  you  sow  one  bushel  of  wheat 
to  the  acre,  you  will  reap  ten  bushels;  if  you  sow 
two  bushels  of  wheat  to  the  acre,  you  will  reap 
twenty  bushels;  but  it  does  not  follow  that  if  you 
sow  four  bushels  of  wheat  to  the  acre,  you  will 
reap  forty  bushels;  and  it's  a  sure  thing  that  if  you 


A  CAMP  FOEUM  151 

sow  twenty  bushels  of  wheat  to  the  acre,  you  will 
get  no  harvest  at  all. 

"  I  am  an  engineer.  I  know  that  if  you  burn 
five  tons  of  coal  you  can  get  thirty  miles  an  hour 
out  of  your  engine,  but  it  isn't  sure  that  by  burn- 
ing ten  tons  you'll  get  sixty  miles  an  hour  out  of 
her.  Up  to  a  certain  point,  the  returns  increase  in 
proportion  to  the  amount  of  energy  and  materials 
that  you  put  into  your  enterprise,  but  at  a  certain 
point  you  meet  a  condition  in  which  the  returns 
begin  to  diminish.  You  work  according  to  what 
is  called  the  law  of  proportionate  increase,  and 
also  the  law  of  diminishing  returns. 

"  We  are  putting  more  into  life  in  every  line 
than  men  did  fifty  years  ago,  but  I  am  not  so  sure 
that  the  output  is  correspondingly  great.  We  are 
wearing  better  clothes;  we  are  eating  more  ex- 
pensive food;  but  men  are  dying,  notwithstanding 
all  this.  The  houses  we  live  in  cost  more,  the 
rooms  are  larger,  better  equipped ;  but  I  am  not  so 
sure  that  we  have  happier  homes,  and  have  more 
of  that  something  that  holds  the  family  together 
than  they  had  in  the  days  of  log  cabin  ventilation. 
Our  school  buildings  are  the  finest  that  have  ever 
been  erected,  the  equipment  perfect,  and  we  are 
constantly  adding  to  the  list  of  studies.  Modern 
education  costs  more,  and  we  are  all  of  us  willing 
that  it  should ;  but  are  we  getting  the  men  and  the 
women  whose  added  efficiency  is  worth  the  added 
cost  ?  I  have  ridden  in  an  ox-cart,  and  in  an  auto- 


152  VINDICATION  OP  EGBERT  CBEIGHTON 

mobile;  I  have  gone  over  the  old  corduroy  road 
and  the  new  macadamized  boulevard;  I  have 
travelled  in  a  prairie  schooner,  and  in  the  cab  of 
the  engine  of  the  Overland  Limited,  and  I  know 
that  no  system,  no  equipment  will  work  itself.  It 
has  to  be  worked,  and  it  is  team  work  that  counts. 
We  have  got  to  develop  that  sense  of  fair-minded- 
ness that  will  enable  us  to  work  together  harmoni- 
ously. The  biggest  job  we  have  is  to  produce  the 
type  of  man  who  is  fit  to  stand  as  a  representative 
of  what  democracy  can  be,  and  what  it  ought  to 
do.  And  when  all  is  said  and  done,  you  still  have 
to  reckon  with  the  most  important  element  of  the 
whole  problem,  namely — the  element  of  human  na- 
ture." 

As  the  last  speaker  resumed  his  seat,  the  men  in 
the  center  of  the  room  were  compelled  to  give  en- 
forced attention  to  an  impromptu  dialogue  be- 
tween Swen  and  one  of  the  men.  Something  had 
been  said  that  displeased  the  man;  he  was  growl- 
ing out  his  discontent  and  muttering  protests  to 
the  effect  that  the  boss  was  in  on  the  graft  with  the 
old  gang,  and  that  the  men  were  being  kept  in  line 
by  a  lot  of  bunk. 

Swen  was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant.  He  chal- 
lenged the  man  either  to  prove  his  statements  or 
eat  his  words.  He  had  not  thought  of  speaking, 
but  as  the  men  called  "  Platform !  Platform !  "  he 
bounded  to  the  front  and  delivered  a  speech  that 
was  a  marvellous  piece  of  crude  eloquence.  He 


A  CAMP  FOEUM  163 

pounded  the  table  with  his  fists  as  he  upheld  the 
honour  of  the  camp;  he  ran  his  fingers  through  his 
hair  as  he  declared  himself  ready  to  meet  all 
comers  in  defense  of  the  good  name  and  sincere 
purposes  of  the  chief.  He  brought  down  the 
house  as  he  exclaimed,  "  Yu  talk  about  a  gude 
time.  Ay  ban  looking  for  a  gude  time  just  so 
sharp  like  those  coon  fallers  vot  vait  on  yu  in  big 
hotels  look  for  tips,  an  ay  tel  yu  it  ban  rank."  His 
oratory  gave  life  to  the  pockets  of  his  trousers 
into  which  he  jammed  his  fists  in  imitation  of  the 
methods  of  the  lazy  rich  whom  he  denounced. 
"  If  ve  turn  gude  trick  for  dese  rich  loafers  ve 
make  for  dem  plenty  vood  to  cut.  If  ve  ban  vise, 
ve  ban  taking  a  flyer  into  camp  of  dese  har  rich 
guys  vat  ain't  vork,  an  see  how  da  lak  eating  beans, 
an  be  put  on  bum  an  get  plenty  gude  hard  raps, 
an  smile  for  chance  tu  sveat  an  freeze."  The 
chairs  on  the  platform  moved  about  as  he  lifted 
them  from  place  to  place,  indicating  the  changes 
that  ought  to  come  as  he  exclaimed,  "Ay  ban  up 
in  voods  a  whole  vinter  sawing,  chopping,  freez- 
ing, sveating,  vorking — an  for  vat !  For  get  grub 
an  saxteen  dollar,  an  be  called  a  gude  f  aller.  Gude 
fallers  ban  mostly  getting  it  gude  in  neck.*'  He 
scoffed  at  the  proffered  condescension  of  women 
who  play  at  social  betterment  and  "  go  tu  teater  an 
vatch  villian  slip  in  true  vindow,  an  vait  tu  see  how 
it  come  out,  an  cry  over  hard  luck  uf  pepul,  an  go 
home  an  tink  how  much  da  do  for  uplift  of  hu- 


154  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

manity.  Piffle ! "  he  shouted  in  utter  disgust. 
But  everything  was  tame  by  comparison  when, 
lifting  his  finger  high  above  his  head,  he  ex- 
claimed, "If  yu  never  suffer  yourself — yu  don't 
know.  If  yu  have  suffer — yu  do  know.  Vat's 
use  tu  talk !  "  Swen  then  resumed  his  seat,  amid 
great  applause. 

It  was  far  and  away  the  most  effective  speech 
of  the  evening.  The  men  sat  breathless,  as  he 
looked  into  their  eyes  and  voiced  their  common 
hopes,  fears  and  longings.  He  put  into  words 
what  they  themselves  had  felt.  He  reached  their 
hearts  because  he  talked  straight  out  of  his  inmost 
soul. 

Beth  and  Jean  who,  along  with  Duke,  had  been 
listening,  were  spellbound.  They  knew  Swen  was 
loyal  to  Creighton,  and  when  he  declared  himself 
ready  to  defend  the  chief,  as  he  called  Creighton, 
they  vigorously  applauded  his  challenge.  But  this 
was  not  all!  There  was  something  back  of  it  that 
made  them  wonder  and  rejoice.  These  thoughts 
they  shared  in  common,  but  not  one  of  them  spoke 
a  word.  There  was  a  long,  profound  silence,  then 
a  man  arose  and  said: 

"  When  I  was  a  boy,  they  told  me  that  public 
speaking  was  having  something  to  say,  and  saying 
it.  On  that  ground,  I  have  no  right  to  speak.  I 
am  glad  that  we  arc  having  these  issues  discussed. 
We  haven't  reached  the  solution,  but  we  are  on 
the  way.  What  is  needed,  as  I  see  it,  is  not  simply 


A  CAMP  FOEUM  155 

a  political,  but  an  industrial,  an  educational,  and  a 
spiritual  democracy,  a  democracy  of  real  brother- 
hood. If  that  is  what  we  want,  then  it's  up  to  us 
to  play  the  game.  Star  stunts  won't  do  it.  Get- 
ting applause  from  the  bleachers  by  posing  in  the 
spotlight  never  won  a  pennant.  Some  of  you  men 
came  from  New  England  stock,  a  good  ancestry, 
none  better.  But  what  did  your  forefathers  be- 
lieve? Less  than  three  hundred  years  ago,  they 
believed  in  witchcraft.  They  believed  if  a  woman 
was  accused  of  being  a  witch,  she  could  prove  her 
innocence  by  walking  over  hot  plates;  if  she 
burned  her  feet,  she  was  guilty. 

"  There  was  a  time  when  men  believed  in  canni- 
balism. Only  sixty  years  ago  in  the  New  Hebri- 
des Islands,  the  chief  and  all  of  the  people  of  his 
tribe  were  cannibals,  eating  human  flesh. 

'  There  was  a  time  when  men  believed  in  duel- 
ling, and  in  the  right  of  every  man  to  carry  con- 
cealed weapons.  But  they  soon  found  that  when 
a  man  carried  a  gun,  he  carried  with  him  also  a 
disposition  to  use  it  on  the  slightest  provocation, 
and  as  a  result,  there  is  a  law  in  every  state  which 
prohibits  the  carrying  of  concealed  weapons. 

"  There  was  a  time  when  men  believed  in 
slavery.  Human  beings  were  sold  to  the  highest 
bidder,  just  as  men  to-day  buy  and  sell  horses  and 
cattle.  Now,  try  to  make  yourself  believe  in  witch- 
craft, or  cannibalism,  or  duelling,  or  slavery.  You 
can't  do  it.  But  our  fathers  believed  in  these 


156  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

things.  Why  can't  you?  Because  new  factors 
have  been  added  to  the  problem,  and  the  sum  at 
the  foot  of  the  column  is  changed.  The  time  is 
not  far  distant  when,  along  with  witchcraft,  can- 
nibalism, duelling  and  slavery,  men  will  scrap  the 
old  competitive  system  that  is  to-day  pushing  the 
majority  of  our  people  over  the  brink  of  misery. 
We  will  leave  it  to  the  sun  and  wind  to  dis- 
sipate, along  with  other  things  that  we  have  out- 
grown." 

The  next  speaker  was  a  newcomer.  He  had 
but  recently  arrived  and  was  known  to  but  very 
few  of  the  men.  He  was  the  only  sailor  in  the 
camp.  As  he  came  forward,  he  at  once  arrested 
the  attention  of  the  audience.  He  took  his  stand 
in  front  of  the  platform,  modestly  declining  to  as- 
cend the  steps.  Looking  first  at  Creighton,  then 
at  the  men  before  him,  he  said,  "  I  don't  know 
much  of  what  you  men  have  been  saying.  I've 
had  it  put  up  to  me  in  a  different  way.  Human 
nature  is  all  there  is  to  it.  Any  system  will  work 
if  people  are  right,  and  no  system  will  work  if  peo- 
ple are  wrong.  When  you've  been  one  hundred 
and  sixty-six  days  out  of  sight  of  land,  you're  not 
fit  for  much  of  anything  on  shore.  All  you  see  is 
people,  and  they  look  queer.  Just  being  good 
seems  tame.  There  is  only  one  way  to  be  good, 
and  it's  lonesome.  There  are  so  many  ways  in 
which  you  can  cut  loose,  and  it's  more  interesting. 
That's  why  a  sailor  on  shore  leave  can  raise  hell  in 


A  CAMP  FOKUM  157 

seven  different  ways.  My  last  trip  was  in  an  old 
tub.  She  was  so  rotten  that  when  a  big  sea  struck 
us,  her  seams  opened  and  her  royal  mast  that  stood 
one  hundred  and  eighty  feet  above  water,  went 
down  across  the  wheel  house,  and  splintered  it  to 
smithereens.  A  coaster  picked  us  up.  I've  been 
a  long  time  in  the  hospital.  When  I  came  out,  all 
I  had  was  my  field-glass;  I  put  that  seven-guinea 
binocular  in  soak  for  three  bucks ;  in  two  days  that 
was  gone.  The  men  that  sent  the  old  scow  out  to 
sea  got  insurance  on  her  and  the  cargo.  We  got 
a  chance  to  risk  our  necks  and  go  broke.  One  of 
the  men  said,  '  If  you're  big  enough,  you  can  get 
along  with  anybody.'  Maybe  you  can,  but  as  I 
remember  it,  even  Jesus  Christ  didn't  make  a  hit 
with  some  people. 

"  I  was  weak  and  hungry.  I  sat  down  on  the 
curb  to  get  warm  in  the  sun,  and  I  went  to  sleep. 
A  cop  saw  me  and  thought  I  was  drunk.  Just  as 
he  was  going  to  run  me  in,  a  man  came  along  and 
said,  '  Kid,  what's  on  your  mind?  ' — just  as  if  he 
had  always  known  me.  He  sat  down  alongside  of 
me,  slipped  me  a  ten-spot  and  said,  *  Get  yourself 
something  to  eat ;  then  go  up  to  the  camp  and  I'll 
see  you  there.'  The  cop  thought  we  were  pals  and 
beat  it.  I  didn't  know  his  name  then,  and  I  just 
half  saw  his  face,  but  I'd  know  his  voice  among  a 
million  in  a  night  as  black  as  doom. 

"  This  isn't  my  line.  This  work  don't  get  me, 
but  I'm  getting  stronger,  and  I'll  soon  be  fit.  It's 


hard  to  do  what  you  don't  want  to  do  and  be 
cheerful  about  it.  But  anybody  can  crab,  and  a 
grouch  don't  get  you  anywhere.  That's  why  I  say 
human  nature  is  the  big  thing.  Just  plain,  straight, 
honest-to-God  human  nature. 

"  I've  met  men  who  pretended  to  be  more  re- 
ligious than  they  were — hypocrites.  And  I've  met 
men  who  talked  as  if  they  didn't  believe  in  God  or 
anything,  until  they  got  in  a  hole.  I  know  that 
old  stuff.  When  the  chief  gave  me  a  lift  and  a 

job "  and  the  sailor  paused  and  looked  at 

Creighton ;  there  was  a  break  in  his  voice.  "  When 
the  chief  gave  me  a  lift  and  a  job,"  he  continued, 
"  I  put  it  up  to  the  Almighty  to  make  me  big 
enough  to  come  through." 

As  the  sailor  concluded,  a  hush  fell  upon  the 
audience.  It  had  been  a  great  hour  and  it  had 
taken  an  unexpected  turn  in  the  tribute  the  sailor 
had  paid  the  chief.  The  men  joined  in  singing 
"America,"  as  was  their  custom,  then  quietly  dis- 
banded. 

After  the  meeting  had  adjourned,  Jean  re- 
mained at  the  piano  where  she  had  played  the  ac- 
companiment for  the  song.  The  sailor's  story  had 
moved  her  gently.  As  she  lifted  her  eyes,  she 
saw  him  standing  beside  the  fireplace,  and  she 
heard  one  of  the  men  ask,  "  What  was  the  name 
of  that  boat  you  were  telling  us  about  ?  " 

"  The  Norman,"  she  heard  the  sailor  reply.  "  It 
was  a  rotten  deal.  She  wasn't  fit  to  go  to  sea. 


A  CAMP  FOKUM  169 

But  Captain  Knight  played  the  game  on  the  square. 
He  stayed  aboard  and  went  down." 

At  the  mention  of  the  word  "Norman "  it 
seemed  to  Jean  that  her  heart  stopped.  She 
seemed  to  be  slipping  away  into  unconsciousness. 
Here  was  a  man  who  had  sailed  with  Quinn,  and 
who  could  tell  her  about  him. 

"  Did  I  know  him !  "  the  sailor  repeated  in  an- 
swer to  her  eager  inquiry.  "  I  should  say  yes ! 
Look  at  this !  "  and  he  held  up  his  right  hand  and 
disclosed  a  scar  that  ran  across  the  wrist  and  up 
on  the  thumb.  "  Got  caught  in  a  pulley.  Some 
doctors  would  have  cut  the  hand  off,  but  he  saved 
it  for  me,  and  it's  as  good  as  ever.  I  owe  that 
good  right  hand  to  him;  it's  a  neat  job,  isn't  it? 
The  last  time  I  saw  him,  he  was  on  the  bridge — 
with  the  Captain.  And — say ! 

"  Did  you  know  him  ?  "  the  sailor  asked,  turning 
to  Jean.  "If  you  did — well,  I'll  just  say  this — 
he  was  on  the  level !  " 


XIII 

A  MASTERPIECE 

THE  influence  of  the  monk  increased  for 
Quinn  with  the  passing  days.  His  can- 
dour, modesty,  well-balanced  judgment, 
learning  and  the  gentleness  of  his  spirit  made  him 
a  rare  companion.  The  monk's  attitude — of  in- 
structing him  as  if  he  were  a  comparatively  igno- 
rant, but  promising  student — Quinn  easily  for- 
gave; the  familiar  facts  were  stated  from  a 
view-point  quite  unusual,  and  with  a  philosophy 
that  was  bracing  and  binding!  With  the  other 
dwellers  of  the  monastery,  however,  Quinn  had 
little  in  common ;  of  late,  he  shunned  them.  "  I 
don't  like  the  way  they  use  their  time,"  he  re- 
marked to  his  friend,  as  he  watched  a  procession 
of  the  monks.  "  They  may  be  holy,  but  they  are 
not  human.  The  record  says  that  children  loved 
Jesus.  I  can't  imagine  a  happy  child  in  such  com- 
pany as  this!  Lord!  If  I  could  organize  a  root- 
er's club,  I'd  give  five  years  of  my  life  to  be  their 
yell-leader!"  Involuntarily,  Quinn  closed  his  fists. 
In  imagination,  the  bleachers  rose  before  him,  and 
he  seemed  once  more  ready  to  lead  the  yell. 

"A  rooter's  club  is  a  good  thing,  my  son,"  the 
1 60 


A  MASTERPIECE  161 

monk  replied,  "  but  with  the  best  of  intentions,  a 
man  can't  stay  in  early  youth  forever.  In  due 
time,  in  spite  of  him,  he  graduates.  It  is  good  to 
have  been  young  in  youth,  but  it  is  good,  as  well,  to 
grow  older.  With  the  years,  our  affections 
grounded  in  experience  guide  us  even  better  than 
we  know.  As  I  see  it,  it  makes  little  difference 
whether  a  man  applauds  or  approves  in  silence ;  the 
chief  thing  is  to  maintain  an  interest  in  the  things 
that  keep  us  young,  and  are  worthy  of  our  ef- 
forts." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  the  only  alterna- 
tive of  a  rooter's  club  is  a  monastery !  "  Quinn 
laughed.  "They  are  dying  for  a  shout;  they've 
forgotten  the  muscles  in  their  throats !  " 

"  No,  my  son,  life  isn't  a  monastery  or  a  club, 
but  there  is  such  a  thing  as  artistic  and  spiritual 
contact  as  well  as  social  and  athletic !  You  your- 
self have  an  equal  fondness  for  a  scalpel  and  a 
dictionary.  Dante,  the  greatest  poet  of  the  middle 
ages,  was  no  inmate  of  a  monastery,  but  he  tells  us 
that  he  spent  his  years  on  the  stairs  of  others,  eat- 
ing bread  savoured  with  tears.  During  his  time  of 
wandering,  he  visited  monasteries.  There  he  met 
the  choice  spirits  of  his  time.  With  the  monks  he 
discussed  theology  and  philosophy.  He  is  gener- 
ally admitted  to  have  been  the  best  informed  man 
of  his  day.  It  was  Dante,  the  poet — not  a  king  or 
a  general — who  led  the  world  out  of  the  torpor  of 
the  middle  ages.  But  why  tell  a  linguist  all  this?. 


162  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CKEIGHTON 

"  You  see,  my  son,"  he  said,  stroking  a  volume 
which  he  held  in  his  hand,  "  the  outward  garb  of 
civilization  changes,  but  the  universal  elements,  the 
things  that  are  the  property  of  no  age  or  country, 
these  abide.  A  few  books  live  and  endure — will 
live  and  endure,  because  they  possess  a  potency !  A 
potency  that  thrilled  the  reader  of  bygone  centuries 
— and  thrills  him  to  the  heart  again  to-day.  To 
spend  an  hour  with  a  great  soul  that  has  meditated, 
and  felt  the  wonder  of  life,  experienced  the  throb- 
bings  of  the  human  heart;  to  behold  him  coming 
up  out  of  the  valley  of  shadows  with  the  light  of 
other  worlds  falling  across  his  countenance,  and  to 
listen  to  him  as  he  fearlessly  shakes  out  his  heart ; 
that,  my  son,  is  an  experience  not  to  be  exchanged 
for  anything  else  in  the  whole  round  world.  I 
have  spent  many  a  happy  hour  reading  my  Dante," 
said  the  monk,  and  he  opened  his  copy  of  the  Di- 
vine Comedy. 

"  Often  as  I  have  turned  the  pages,  pondering 
his  noble  speech,  filling  my  mind  with  his  words 
of  wisdom  and  beauty,  reading  over  and  over 
again  his  lines  of  comfort,  I  seemed  to  thrill  with 
longing.  I  shall  hunt  for  him,  my  son,  in  Para- 
dise, and  for  his  goodness  thank  him  from  my 
heart!" 

"  I  always  think  of  the  Divine  Comedy  as  one 
of  the  books  which  everybody  praises  and  nobody 
reads,"  Quinn  replied.  "  Dabbling  in  languages 
as  I  do,  I  have  found  it  an  interesting  collection 


A  MASTEEPIECE  163 

of  words,  and  in  these  I've  not  gone  beyond  the 
first  book,  but  of  course,  he  would  be  a  brave  man 
who  would  find  fault  with  it,  even  if  he  wanted 
to!" 

The  monk  smiled,  as  was  his  custom  when  lis- 
tening to  Ouinn's  answers.  "  Come  with  me  into 
the  gallery,"  he  said.  "  One  of  our  Brothers  has 
illustrated  Dante's  poem  in  a  series  of  paintings. 
I  want  you  to  see  them,"  and  the  monk  led  the 
Way  into  a  narrow  room  back  of  the  chapel.  It 
was  lighted  from  above ;  the  walls  were  lined  with 
the  paintings.  Seated  in  the  center  of  the  room, 
the  monk  pointed  to  a  portrait  and  said,  "  That, 
my  son,  is  a  portrait  of  Virgil.  Ta  Dante,  Virgil, 
you  will  know,  represented  the  authority  of  Im- 
perial Rome.  In  his  poem,  he  pictures  himself  as 
lost  in  a  forest;  Virgil  comes  to  his  rescue  and 
tells  Dante  that  Beatrice  in  Heaven  cares  for  him 
and,  at  her  wish,  he  has  come  to  guide  him  to  the 
heights ;  but  first,  he  must  look  back  on  the  results 
of  sin.  They  pass  through  a  gloomy  forest,  cross 
a  river,  and  find  themselves  at  the  rim  of  a  crater 
that  extends  in  nine  great  circles  to  the  center  of 
the  earth.  Through  these  they  journey  together. 
In  this  entire  Inferno,  evil  reigns.  Its  sounds  are 
all  of  woe. 

"As  they  emerge,  Virgil  leads  Dante  to  an 
Island  of  Seven  Terraces.  The  way  from  one 
ledge  to  another  is  difficult,  and  the  path  so  nar- 
row they  must  journey  up  alone.  Dante  is  so  ex- 


164  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEKT  CEEIGHTON 

hausted  that  he  falters.  But  on  each  ledge  an 
angel  meets  him  and  brushes  a  letter  from  his  fore- 
head. It  is  the  symbol  of  the  deadly  sins  of  which 
they  who  scale  the  mountain  are  cleansed.  The 
angel  fingers  touch  his  forehead.  Each  time  they 
hear  a  distant  chant.  Here,  there  is  singing.  All 
souls  are  helpful.  They  hear  the  songs  of  birds 
and  smell  sweet  flowers.  The  mountain  is  called 
Purgatory. 

"  But  the  best  of  the  poem  is  the  Paradise.  In 
Paradise,  those  are  together,  who  had,  on  earth, 
like  sufferings,  joys  and  aspirations,  though  all  are 
free  to  journey  through  the  whole  realm  of  the 
blessed.  Here,  Virgil  leaves  and  Beatrice  takes 
his  place. 

"  See  the  artist's  portrait  of  Beatrice,  who 
guides  Dante  through  the  Paradise,"  cried  the 
monk.  "  First,  they  journey  to  the  moon  where 
those  souls  dwell  who  have  taken  vows  and  have, 
like  the  fickle  moon,  forgotten  them.  Then  they 
visit  Mercury,  the  Heaven  of  those  who  have 
worked  for  God.  Onward,  they  go  to  Venus, 
where  generous  souls  and  patriots  abide.  Thence, 
to  the  sun  where  are  the  spirits  of  philosophers 
whose  teachings  enlightened  mankind.  In  Mars 
are  the  martyrs  and  the  crusaders  who  fought  and 
died  for  their  faith.  In  Jupiter  are  just  judges. 
In  Saturn  are  the  contemplative,  with  a  ladder  be- 
tween Earth  and  Heaven,  but  only  those  who  con- 
template can  see  it.  In  the  fixed  stars  are  the 


A  MASTERPIECE  165 

heroes  and  saints  of  holy  writ.  From  there,  they 
go  to  the  Heaven  of  the  angelic  host.  Here  is  a 
great  white  rose,  and  in  its  center  is  the  Throne 
of  God." 

"What  is  your  interpretation?'*  Quinn  inter- 
posed. 

"  Poets,  my  son,"  replied  the  monk,  "  are  like 
lovers.  They  say  things,  they  don't  mean  them. 
The  poem  finds  him.  Wherever  he  goes,  it  haunts 
him,  and  at  last  he  catches  its  music  and  out  of  his 
heart  comes  a  song,  and  he  sings  it  for  the  joy  of 
singing.  The  same  is  true  of  music.  Ask  any 
number  of  people  how  a  given  song  affects 
them.  Some  will  tell  you  they  are  thrilled, 
some  are  lulled,  some  shudder,  some  rejoice; 
with  some,  the  enjoyment  is  physical;  with 
others,  intellectual;  in  others,  there  is  awak- 
ened a  sense  of  exaltation,  they  are  eager  to  do 
great  deeds,  imagination  is  stimulated,  they  are 
lifted  into  ecstasies,  while  others  feel  their  teeth 
on  edge,  and  long  to  clutch  at  something.  Now, 
the  composer  did  not  say,  *  This  will  thrill  them ; 
this  will  lull  them ;  this  will  cause  them  to  shudder ; 
this  will  charm  them;  this  will  produce  an  inde- 
scribable sensation.'  We  do  not  ask  what  is  meant 
by  the  melody  in  the  song  of  a  bird  or  the  mur- 
mur in  a  brook.  The  way  these  affect  us  depends 
upon  ourselves  and  upon  our  own  experiences. 

"  But  if  you  want  something  with  a  real  mean- 
ing, here  it  is,"  and  pointing  to  a  painting,  the 


166  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

monk  said,  "  This  is  the  artist's  picture  of  the 
mountain  of  Purgatory.  Look  at  that  company 
of  laggards  at  the  foot.  There  is  one  sitting  with 
his  back  against  the  wall,  his  legs  drawn  up,  his 
arms  encircling  them,  and  his  chin  resting  on  his 
knees;  every  part  of  his  body  in  repose — the  em- 
bodiment of  laziness.  Climbing  requires  effort. 
These  are  the  men  who  do  not  wish  to  climb ;  they 
are  satisfied  to  remain  at  the  foot.  There  will  al- 
ways be  men  who  might  have  been  rich  or  learned, 
or  great,  but  they  never  rise  an  inch  above  the 
common  stature,  just  for  the  want  of  one  heroic 
act  of  the  will." 

"  As  I  think  of  the  story,"  Ouinn  replied, 
"  Dante  loved  a  woman  he  couldn't  marry  and 
married  a  woman  he  couldn't  love,  and  then  lapsed 
into  the  non-poetic  state  of  uncongenial  matri- 
mony, and  because  his  own  home  was  prosy,  he 
made  up  for  it  by  writing  poetry.  I  grant  you 
that  he  was  a  genius.  I  suppose  you  would  say 
that's  the  genius  of  it." 

"  His  poem  was  written  as  a  tribute  to  the 
woman  he  loved,"  replied  the  monk.  "  After  the 
death  of  Beatrice,  he  tells  us  he  had  a  vision.  *  I 
saw  things,'  he  says,  '  which  made  me  resolve  to 
say  no  more  of  this  blessed  one  until  I  can  speak 
of  her  worthily/  Since  the  world  has  been  a 
worthy  dwelling  for  Beatrice,  it  is  worthy  his  best 
endeavour.  Beatrice  was  no  mere  woman,  she 
was  the  woman  he  loved,  and  he  records  a  vow  to 


A  MASTEEPIECB  167 

write  such  things  of  her  as  had  never  before  been 
written  of  any  woman  since  the  world  began. 
This  was  the  source  of  his  inspiration  during  all 
the  years  of  his  wandering,  during  all  the  weary 
days  of  his  tribulation." 

"  He  was  a  prior  in  Florence,  wasn't  he  ? " 
Ouinn  asked.  "  And  exiled  for  misappropriating 
the  public  funds ;  Florence  lost  a  good  official,  but 
the  world  gained  a  singer.  That's  the  idea,  isn't 
it?" 

Again  the  monk  smiled.  Then  he  began  pac- 
ing to  and  fro.  "  After  Dante  became  renowned," 
he  said,  "  they  issued  a  proclamation,  inviting  him 
to  return  to  Florence  on  condition  that  he  do  pen- 
ance and  make  public  confession.  But  he  defied 
them ;  he  trampled  under  foot  their  overtures,  and 
scornfully  rejected  their  proposals.  I  can  almost 

hear  him  call "  and  the  monk,  with  graceful 

gesture  and  stirring  voice,  was  Dante  for  the  mo- 
ment, as  he  exclaimed,  "  '  No !  No !  This  is  not 
the  way  of  my  return  to  my  country.  If  no  path 
leads  back  to  Florence  which  hurts  not  fame  nor 
honour,  then  will  I  never  reach  Florence  more. 
Must  I  make  me  inglorious  and  shameful  in  the 
eyes  of  all  the  people?  Can  I  not  gaze  upon  the 
sun  and  stars  wherever  I  am?  Can  I  not  ponder 
on  the  sweetest  of  truths  wherever  I  may  be  under 
the  heavens?  Your  city  is  but  a  lentil  seed  upon 
the  earth.  No!  I  go  not  thus  to  Florence — not 
even  for  my  life.' ' 


168  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

I 

"  Good !  "  Ouinn  exclaimed.  "  Fighting  for 
justice !  " 

"  Strange,  isn't  it,  my  son,  that  the  world's 
teachers  are  so  often  driven  into  exile,  compelled 
to  wander  through  inhospitable  lands?  I  remem- 
ber the  time  when  I  wanted  to  endow  the  poets  to 
free  them  to  produce  better  and  more  memorable 
work.  But  if  this  were  best,  then  we  ought  to 
find  our  poets  among  the  rich!  On  the  contrary, 
they  have  come  from  poor  circumstances,  where 
mere  bread  getting  is  difficult.  There  is  no  deny- 
ing the  fact  that  in  proportion  as  life  is  easy  for 
the  average  man,  his  manhood  is  retarded.  The 
less  need  there  is  for  work  the  more  likely  is  a 
man  to  waste  his  talents.  The  best  way  to  kill 
genius  is  to  pension  it.  Oblivion  is  the  penalty  of 
great  wealth." 

"  We  eulogize  poverty  in  song  and  speech,"  said 
Ouinn,  "  but  the  men  you  speak  of  were  well-to- 
do.  Poverty,  in  itself,  as  I  see  it,  is  not  a  thing  to 
be  desired.  It  means  limitation.  Money  means 
opportunity,  travel,  comfort,  life." 

"  So  it  seems,  my  son,  but  when  you  consider  the 
leaders,  you  find  that  they  come  from  the  cabin,  or 
the  crofter's  cottage,  from  exile,  or  from  the  wil- 
derness. Advantage  lies  in  having  no  advantage! 
Success  is  the  prize  for  fighting  a  handicap.  Bare 
feet  climb  up,  and  polished  boots  slip  down.  In 
the  cradle  of  hardship,  and  in  the  school  of  ad- 
versity, genius  has  reared  her  greatest  children. 


A  MASTEEPIECE  169 

Think  of  Moses,  the  child  of  a  slave;  of  David, 
the  shepherd;  of  Peter,  the  fisherman;  of  Paul,  the 
tentmaker;  of  Luther,  the  miner's  son;  of  Bunyan, 
the  tinker;  of  Gary,  the  cobbler;  of  Livingstone, 
the  weaver ;  of  Burns,  the  crofter's  child ;  of  Coper- 
nicus, the  baker's  boy;  of  Shakespeare  and  Defoe, 
the  sons  of  butchers;  of  Munkacsy,  who  painted 
'  Christ  before  Pilate ';  of  Garfield,  the  canal  boy; 
of  Grant,  the  tanner;  and  of  Lincoln.  Think  of 
the  weary  line  of  writers,  doctors,  lawyers,  mer- 
chants, artisans,  so  poor  that  they  had  to  warm 
their  bare  feet  on  that  spot  in  the  pasture  where 
the  cows  had  slept !  So  penniless  they  had  to  walk 
from  farm  to  city!  So  great  that  their  souls  are 
the  ornaments  of  history! 

"  You  see,  the  simple  things  are  the  great  things. 
There  are  only  seven  notes  in  our  scale  of  music, 
seven  strands  in  the  rainbow.  Men  take  these 
seven  notes  and  weave  them  into  an  immortal 
symphony,  they  blend  the  seven  strands  of  the  sun- 
beam into  a  great  painting,  they  weave  the  twenty- 
six  letters  of  the  alphabet  into  an  immortal  song. 
But  a  man  cannot  always  work  up  to  his  highest 
possibilities.  You  cannot  always  sing  or  play  or 
speak  or  pray  the  way  you  sing,  play,  speak  and 
pray  sometimes.  To  do  our  best,  the  mood  must 
be  upon  us.  There  are  moments  in  which  the 
great  things  in  life  stand  out  so  clearly,  blend  in 
such  perfect  harmony  in  a  poem,  a  painting,  or  a 
melody,  that  they  face  you  with  sublimity.  The 


170  VINDICATION  OF  EOBERT  CEEIGHTON 

greatest  tribute  that  can  be  given  such  achievement 
is  the  tribute  of  silence.  That  is  the  perfect  trib- 
ute of  the  human  mind  that  the  human  heart  ex- 
periences. The  test  of  the  masterpiece  is  its  mas- 
tery of  you.  It  belongs  to  all  ages.  It  overlaps 
all  boundaries.  It  is  universal  in  its  appeal." 


XIV 
FORCES  THAT  WIN 

AS  the  men  of  the  camp  passed  the  hut  going 
to  and  from  the  dining-room,  they  saw 
the  following  notice  posted  on  the  bulletin 
board : 

To-night  at  8  o'clock 

Dr.  Dithmere  Speaks. 

Topic: 

"FORCHS  THAT  WIN" 

It  was  Creighton's  custom  to  invite  men  to  talk 
who  were  specialists  in  their  particular  lines.  In 
choosing  the  speakers,  he  always  conferred  with 
his  men.  He  was  immensely  popular  with  them. 
Was  it  a  piece  of  strategy  on  his  part  to  build  his 
influence  over  them  as  powerfully  as  possible? 
Did  he  have  any  lurking  terror  that  his  prison  ex- 
perience would  some  day  confront  him  to  his  un- 
doing? Did  the  thought  of  Warden  Delaney  and 
Fleck  spur  him  on?  Hardly  that!  He  was  sim- 
ple and  direct.  Possibly  his  observation  in  prison 
had  deeply  impressed  him,  however,  with  the  fact 
that  there  were  methods  of  dealing  with  men — 

171 


172  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

methods  of  putting  the  best  things  in  their  way — 
that  would  preserve  them  from  going  to  where  he 
had  been.  As  he  came  into  the  hut  with  Dr.  Dith- 
mere,  he  was  greeted  with  a  round  of  applause. 
Without  a  formal  introduction,  he  announced  that 
Jean  would  sing;  this  she  did  in  a  way  that  de- 
lighted the  men  and  put  them  in  a  good  mood  for 
the  evening's  address. 

Then  Creighton  introduced  the  speaker.  Dr. 
Dithmere  was  a  man  of  striking  appearance.  He 
was  tall,  well-built,  broad-shouldered ;  his  hair  was 
silvered,  his  eyes  dark,  his  countenance  radiant, 
his  general  demeanour  that  of  quiet,  yet  cordial 
dignity.  With  the  first  sentence  of  his  address,  he 
was  on  good  terms  with  his  audience.  His  voice 
was  rich  and  brilliant  with  many  inflections.  He 
could  talk  to  men. 

"  I  know  what  you  are  thinking  about,"  he  said, 
after  the  applause  had  subsided.  "  I  never  like  to 
have  an  audience  think  that  it  can  fool  me.  I 
want  you  to  think  with  me,  for  I  have  no  desire  to 
waste  the  evening  in  talking  at  you." 

Then  suddenly  he  exclaimed,  "  What's  the  mat- 
ter with  the  world,  in  commerce,  statesmanship, 
education  and  religion?  Men  do  not  think.  Oh, 
I  know  they  think  they  think,  but  they  only  think 
they  think.  Oftentimes  having  listened  to  a 
speaker,  we  say  to  ourselves,  '  I  like  to  hear  that 
man  talk — he  makes  me  think.'  Or,  in  reading 
an  author,  we  say,  '  I  like  his  books — he  makes  me 


FOECES  THAT  WIH  173 

think/  Sometimes  a  young  fellow,  by  way  of  self- 
excuse,  exclaims,  '  Well,  I  didn't  think.'  The  old 
proverb  has  it,  '  A  penny  for  your  thoughts,'  but 
to-day  they  will  give  you  a  million  dollars  for  an 
idea  if  you  really  have  one. 

"A  young  fellow  came  into  the  office  of  the 
managing  editor  of  a  metropolitan  paper  and  ap- 
plied for  a  position.  '  What  can  you  do  ?  '  asked 
the  editor.  '  Really,  I  do  not  know,'  came  the  re- 
ply. '  You  see  I  have  nothing  but  ideas.'  '  Noth- 
ing but  ideas ! '  the  editor  exclaimed,  springing  to 
his  feet.  '  You're  just  the  man  we  have  been  look- 
ing for.  I  tell  you  what  I  will  do.  I  will  give  you 
fifty  thousand  dollars  for  an  idea  that  will  enable 
us  to  increase  the  circulation  of  our  paper  a  hun- 
dred thousand  copies.' 

I  know  a  man  who  made  a  fortune  out  of  so 
simple  a  thing  as  lacing  up  his  shoes:  a  very  simple 
thing  under  ordinary  circumstances,  but  when  the 
steel  is  off  the  end  of  one  of  the  shoe  laces  and 
you  try  to  put  it  through  the  eyelet,  only  to  have 
it  ball  up  on  the  wrong  side,  your  traffic  is  blocked 
right  there.  And  when  you  chew  the  end  of  that 
dirty  old  shoestring  until  the  recuperation  of  a 
night's  sleep  is  gone,  you  know  that  something 
should  be  done,  but  you  only  think  about  it  in  a 
muddled  way  and  let  it  go.  This  man  put  four 
hooks  on  each  side  of  a  high  top  shoe,  got  a  patent 
on  it,  and  made  a  fortune. 

"  I  know  another  man  who  made  a  fortune  out 


174  YIKDICATION  OF  BOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

of  so  simple  a  thing  as  shining  his  shoes.  The  old 
kind  of  shine  didn't  last  as  long  as  you  were  rub- 
bing it.  This  man  mixed  a  little  turpentine  in  the 
old  kind  of  shoe-shine.  He  didn't  crowd  anybody 
to  the  wall,  he  just  put  out  a  superior  article.  The 
men  who  were  making  the  old  kind  retired.  Good 
for  a  fortune  to  the  man  who  thought  clearly  about 
so  simple  a  thing  as  shining  shoes. 

"  I  also  know  of  a  man  who  made  a  fortune  by 
just  putting  a  crimp  in  a  piece  of  wire.  He  made 
a  hook  and  eye  that  would  stay  put,  and  then  ad- 
vertised, '  See  that  hump ! '  That  was  all ! 

"  A  little  while  ago  the  sources  of  profit  in  the 
packing  industry  were  two  —  meat  and  hides. 
Then  the  heads  of  the  various  departments  began 
to  think  things  through.  '  We  are  throwing  to  the 
scrap-heap,'  they  said,  '  materials  that  should  be 
converted  into  cash.'  One  man  said,  '  We  can 
grind  up  the  bones  for  fertilizer.'  Another  said, 
'  The  gristle  can  be  used  for  plastering  purposes, 
and  the  hair  for  mattresses.'  Another  said,  '  We 
can  prepare  the  blood,  put  it  in  stone  jars;  the 
women  can  take  out  half  a  teaspoonful,  pour  hot 
water  on  it  and  make  beef  tea.'  Another  said,  '  I 
have  analyzed  the  black  scum  that  floats  on  the 
surface  of  the  water,  and  I  find  that  it  contains 
the  elements  of  finest  glycerine.'  Another  said, 
*  In  the  scraps  that  we  are  throwing  away,  there  is 
fat  enough  to  make  the  best  soap.'  Still  another 
said,  '  Here  are  the  horns  and  the  hoofs.  We  can 


FOECES  THAT  WIN  176 

make  buttons  out  of  some,  glue  out  of  some,  and 
gelatine  out  of  the  rest.'  Then  they  thought  they 
had  everything,  but  one  day  a  man  came  in  and 
said,  '  The  other  day  I  went  into  the  slaughtering 
pen  with  a  sensitive  cylinder.  On  it,  I  caught  the 
squeal  of  the  hogs.  We  can  duplicate  that  cylinder 
and  sell  it.'  This  they  did;  and  now  as  a  conse- 
quence, they  make  money  out  of  everything,  from 
the  gristle  to  the  squeal,  by  thinking  without  con- 
fusion— clearly. 

"  The  American  Indian  is  the  original  Ameri- 
can. He  was  the  first  owner  of  this  great  country. 
But  he  is  no  longer  a  factor  in  the  life  of  our  land 
because  he  didn't  think.  He  saw  only  fish  in  the 
stream  and  wild  game  in  the  forest.  And  because 
he  saw  this,  and  only  this,  presently  a  man  came 
along,  planted  seeds  in  the  lowland,  gathered  in  a  * 
harvest  and  made  a  fortune  which  the  Indian  over- 
looked. Another  man  came  along,  cut  down  trees, 
ripped  them  into  lumber,  and  made  a  fortune 
which  the  Indian  overlooked.  Another  came 
along,  used  the  bark  for  tanning  purposes,  tanned 
the  hides  the  Indians  threw  away,  and  made  a  for- 
tune the  Indians  had  overlooked.  Another  man 
came  along,  ground  the  twigs  of  the  trees  into 
pulp,  changed  them  into  paper,  and  made  a  for- 
tune. Another  dug  down  into  the  earth,  discov- 
ered the  coal,  and  made  a  fortune.  Another 
changed  the  coal  into  coke.  Another  captured  the 
gas  that  was  escaping  from  the  coke  oven,  mixed 


176  VINDICATION  OF  KOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

it  with  water  and  wind,  sold  it  for  a  dollar  a  thou- 
sand,— ten  off  for  cash — and  made  several  for- 
tunes. Another  man  dug  down  into  the  earth  and 
discovered  the  oil.  Another  man  refined  the  oil. 
Another  man  changed  the  dirty  scum  into  axle- 
grease  and  chewing  gum,  and  made  more  fortunes 
than  all  the  rest !  Now  these  things  were  lying  all 
around  the  Indian.  They  were  saying,  *  Here  I 
am.  Here  I  am.  I  am  yours  for  the  asking. 
Pick  me  up.  Propose.'  But  he  didn't  propose  to 
any  one,  or  all  of  them,  and  so  he  got  left  all  along 
the  line. 

"  Men,  listen  to  me ! "  Dr.  Dithmere  ex- 
claimed, leaning  over  the  edge  of  the  platform,  and 
looking  them  in  the  eye.  "  It  would  be  the  Begin- 
ning of  Days  with  thousands  of  men  all  over  the 
country  if  they  would  take  themselves  in  hand,  line 
themselves  up,  and  think  through  to  a  finish  the 
particular  business  that  has  been  assigned  them. 
People  deceive  themselves  by  thinking  that  they 
can  get  through  on  a  bluff.  They  carry  all  of  their 
goods  in  the  show  windows,  having  no  stock  on  the 
shelf.  They  are  supposed  to  know  about  land  or 
wheat  or  cattle  or  leather  or  linen,  but  they  do  not. 
And  when  they  are  asked  a  question,  they  talk  all 
around  the  subject  instead  of  cleaving  to  the  core, 
and  giving  you  facts. 

*  I  am  going  to  read  you  a  letter  which  Abra- 
ham Lincoln  wrote  to  his  brother.  The  letter  is 
so  thoroughly  characteristic  of  the  man  and  con- 


FOECES  THAT  WIN  177 

tains  such  sound  admonition  that  I  am  sure  you 
will  appreciate  it.  I  hold  in  my  hand  the  original, 
written  by  Lincoln's  own  hand ;  if  any  of  you  wish 
to  see  it  at  the  close  of  this  meeting,  I  shall  be 
glad  to  show  it  to  you.  Listen ! 

"  '  DEAR  JOHNSTON: — 

"  '  Your  request  for  eighty  dollars  I  do  not 
think  it  best  to  comply  with  now.  At  the  various 
times  when  I  have  helped  you  a  little,  you  have  said 
to  me,  "  We  can  get  along  very  well  now,"  but  in 
a  very  short  time  I  find  you  in  the  same  difficulty 
again.  Now  this  can  only  happen  by  some  defect 
in  your  conduct.  What  that  defect  is,  I  think  I 
know.  You  are  not  lazy,  and  still  you  are  an 
idler.  I  doubt  whether  since  I  saw  you,  you  have 
done  a  good  whole  day's  work  in  any  one  day. 
You  do  not  very  much  dislike  to  work,  and  still 
you  do  not  work  much,  merely  because  it  does  not 
seem  to  you  that  you  could  get  much  for  it.  This 
habit  of  uselessly  wasting  time  is  the  whole  diffi- 
culty; and  it  is  vastly  important  to  you,  and  still 
more  so  to  your  children,  that  you  should  break 
this  habit.  It  is  more  important  to  them,  because 
they  have  longer  to  live,  and  can  keep  out  of  an 
idle  habit  before  they  are  in  it  easier  than  they 
can  get  out  after  they  are  in. 

'  You  are  now  in  need  of  some  ready  money; 
and  what  I  propose  is,  that  you  shall  go  to  work, 
"  tooth  and  nail,"  for  somebody  who  will  give  you 
money  for  it.  Let  father  and  your  boys  take 
charge  of  things  at  home — prepare  for  a  crop,  and 
make  the  crop;  and  you  go  to  work  for  the  best 
money  wages,  or  in  discharge  of  any  debt  you  owe, 


178  VINDICATION  OF  EGBERT  CEEIGHTON 

that  you  can  get.  And  to  secure  you  a  fair  reward 
for  your  labour,  I  now  promise  you  that  for  every 
dollar  you  will,  between  this  and  the  first  of  next 
May,  get  for  your  own  labour  either  in  money  or 
in  your  own  indebtedness,  I  will  then  give  you  one 
other  dollar.  By  this,  if  you  hire  yourself  at  ten 
dollars  a  month,  from  me  you  will  get  ten  more, 
making  twenty  dollars  a  month  for  your  work.  In 
this,  I  do  not  mean  you  shall  go  off  to  St.  Louis 
or  the  lead  mines,  or  the  gold  mines  in  California, 
but  I  mean  for  you  to  go  at  it  for  the  best  wages 
you  can  get  close  to  home,  in  Coles  County.  Now 
if  you  will  do  this,  you  will  soon  be  out  of  debt, 
and  what  is  better,  you  will  have  a  habit  that  will 
keep  you  from  getting  in  debt  again.  But  if  I 
should  now  clear  you  out,  next  year  you  will  be 
just  as  deep  in  as  ever.  You  say  you  would  al- 
most give  your  place  in  Heaven  for  $70  or  $80. 
Then  you  value  your  place  in  Heaven  very  cheaply, 
for  I  am  sure  you  can  with  the  offer  I  make  you 
get  the  seventy  or  eighty  dollars  for  four  or  five 
months'  work.  You  say  if  I  furnish  you  the 
money  you  will  deed  me  the  land,  and  if  you  don't 
pay  the  money  back,  you  will  deliver  possession — 
Nonsense!  If  you  can't  now  live  with  the  land, 
how  will  you  then  live  without  it?  You  have  al- 
ways been  kind  to  me,  and  I  do  not  now  mean  to 
be  unkind  to  you.  On  the  contrary,  if  you  will 
but  follow  my  advice,  you  will  find  it  worth  more 
than  eight  times  eighty  dollars  to  you. 

"  '  Affectionately  your  brother, 

"  '  A.  LINCOLN/  ' 

The  men  were  now  thoroughly  alive  with  in- 
terest.   They  had  applauded  each  point  of  the  ad- 


FORCES  THAT  WIN  179 

dress,  but  as  they  listened  to  the  reading  of  the 
Lincoln  letter,  a  silence  fell  upon  them.  After  an 
eloquent  pause,  Dr.  Dithmere  said: 

"  Now  let  us  do  some  thinking.  The  human 
mind  is  a  natural  tramp,  somebody  has  said.  Let 
us  see  if  we  can  command  ourselves.  Thus  far, 
I  have  dealt  with  the  individual.  I  am  an  indi- 
vidualist to  begin  with,  but  not  an  individualist  all 
the  way  through;  for  where  there  are  two,  for 
independence  you  must  write  interdependence.  If 
a  man  were  alone  on  an  island,  like  Robinson 
Crusoe,  he  might  be  independent;  but  we  are  not 
alone — we  are  members  one  of  another.  We  live 
in  an  organized  state  of  society.  We  inherit  the 
harvest  of  others'  planting.  We  reap  what  they 
have  sown. 

"  I  like  Carleton  and  Riley,  for  they  are  close 
to  the  life  of  the  average  man.  In  one  of  his 
poems,  Carleton  gives  us  the  picture  of  an  old 
settler's  reunion.  They  had  asked  the  oldest 
pipneer  to  tell  his  story,  and  after  setting  forth  the 
hardships  and  good-fellowship  of  bygone  days,  he 
continued,  '  I  remember  one  night  I  came  home 
from  work  uncommon  late.  I  was  hungry  and 
tired.  Her  supper  struck  me  wrong.  When  I 
went  out  to  milk,  the  cows  had  wandered  from 
their  feeding  ground.  In  a  fit  of  anger,  I  remon- 
strated with  her.  "  Why  didn't  you  keep  the  ani- 
mals in  view  and  drive  them  in?  You've  nothing 
else  to  do." 


180  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

"  '  The  heft  of  all  our  life  on  me  must  fall, 

And  you  just  lie  round  and  let  me  do  it  all. 

That  speech,  it  wasn't  gone  a  half  a  minute 
Before  I  saw  the  cold,  black  poison  in  it ; 

And  I'd  have  given  all  I  had  and  more 
To  have  only  gotten  it  safely  back  indoor.' 

"  Then  he  went  on  to  relate  how  she  had  left 
and  he  had  gone  out  in  search  of  the  cattle.  Dur- 
ing his  absence,  she  returned.  She  put  a  little  note 
on  the  table  saying  how  sorry  she  was  to  have 
caused  him  the  trouble — '  she  didn't  mean  to  do  so, 
she  was  sincerely  sorry.'  She  wrote: 

"  'A  while  ago  I  heard  the  tinkle  of  a  bell, 

And  where  they  are,  I  think  I  nearly  now  can  tell.' 

Then  she  added  this  tragic  sentence: 

"  'So  piece  out  with  love  the  strength  I  somehow  seem 

to  lack, 

And  if  you  can,  have  a  kind  word  for  me  when  I 
come  back.' 

'  That  night,  God  spilled  an  awful  storm  down 
over  the  hills.  It  staggered  into  the  valley  like  a 
blind  Samson  grappling  at  the  roots  of  the  world, 
and  in  the  quick-gathering  gloom  that  followed  a 
flash  of  lightning,  she  made  a  misstep,  fell  to  the 
foot  of  the  ravine  and  with  barely  strength  enough 
to  crawl  back,  fell  fainting,  dying  on  the  door-sill 
— the  door-sill  of  which  he,  putting  it  in  place,  had 
said : 

'  When  she  crosses  it,   it  will  not  be  a  log 


FORCES  THAT  WIN  181 

cabin;  her  presence  will  make  it  the  very  ante- 
room of  heaven.' 

"  All  that  night  he  was  out  in  the  storm  calling 
her  name,  but  the  only  answer  was  the  thunder 
stumbling  down  the  stairway  of  the  skies,  and 
when  at  last  the  gates  of  the  morning  were  lifted 
and  the  orange  splendours  of  the  new  day  flooded 
the  work,  he  came  back  from  his  vain  search  and 
found  her — dead;  and,  worse  than  death — for 
there  are  some  things  worse  than  death — was  the 
memory  that  his  last  words  to  her  were  a  reproach. 

"  It's  amazing,"  said  the  speaker,  pausing  and 
looking  off  into  the  distance,  "  it's  amazing  how  a 
man  will  sometimes  be  a  fool,  away  below  him- 
self, in  the  way  in  which  he  speaks  to  people  whom 
he  loves. 

"  Then  the  old  settler  forgot  about  the  reunion. 
In  imagination,  he  was  away  at  the  other  end  of 
fifty  years,  living  over  again  the  most  tragic  ex- 
periences of  his  life,  and  as  his  frail  body  trembled, 
in  an  agony  of  despair,  he  cried  out: 

"  '  Here  I  am,  what  everybody  "  well-to-do  "  would 

call, 

But,  oh,  this  night  I'd  give  it  all 
If  somehow  I  through  fifty  years  could  reach 
And  kill  and  bury  that  half -minute's  speech.' 

"  Of  course  he  would,  but  he  couldn't.  There 
are  some  things  that  you  can't  rub  off  the  slate, 
more's  the  pity,  once  you  write  them  there. 


182  VINDICATION  OF  EGBERT  CEEIGHTON 

"  Did  you  get  that  sentence  on  which  the  story 
hinges  ?  Here  it  is — '  Piece  out  with  love  the 
strength  I  somehow  seem  to  lack.'  How  far 
would  the  best  of  us  get  any  day  of  our  lives  if  our 
friends  were  not  constantly  doing  that  for  us  ? " 

Beth  noted  Creighton's  face  as  the  speaker 
brought  the  story  to  its  climax.  There  was  a  far- 
away look  in  his  eyes,  a  mingled  expression  of 
hope  and  sorrow.  As  for  Jean,  she  sat  transfixed. 
There  was  a  deep  silence  throughout  the  audience, 
the  sure  evidence  that  the  speaker's  words  had 
found  their  way  to  the  hearts  of  his  hearers. 

"  Clear  thinking  is  the  first,  and  love  the  second 
element  of  the  forces  that  win,"  continued  the  doc- 
tor, after  a  short  pause.  "  Let  me  name  a  third. 
It  is  cooperation. 

"  The  other  day  I  saw  a  ball  game.  Individ- 
ually, one  team  had  far  and  away  the  best  play- 
ers; but  they  were  playing  ball  as  if  the  game  could 
be  played  with  one  man.  Of  course  they  all  knew 
it  takes  up  nine  men  to  make  a  team,  but  they  were 
not  playing  ball  that  way.  In  the  last  half  of  the 
ninth,  with  one  out,  they  had  a  man  on  first. 
The  next  man  up  was  a  man  whose  batting  aver- 
age for  the  season  was  over  four  hundred.  I 
heard  the  captain  say  to  him  as  he  came  to  the 
plate, '  Now,  George,  forget  it  and  play  the  game/ 
Now,  any  kid  knows  that  to  play  the  game  under 
those  circumstances  was  to  put  down  a  sacrifice 
bunt  and  advance  the  man  from  first  to  second; 


FOECES  THAT  WIN  183 

but  he  wouldn't.  He  had  his  eye  on  the  bleachers. 
He  was  going  to  be  the  hero  of  the  day.  He 
tried  for  a  hit.  The  ball  went  straight  to  the  mit 
of  the  short-stop  who  threw  the  ball  to  second; 
like  a  shot  it  was  relayed  to  first,  two  men  were 
out,  and  the  chance  to  score  and  win  the  game 
was  gone.  Men,  I  know  ball  teams,  lodges,  clubs, 
churches,  communities  that,  individually,  are  made 
up  of  fine  people,  but  they  are  divided  into  cliques, 
and  unless  a  project  originates  with  their  little  set, 
or  their  chosen  few,  or  their  select  minority,  they 
are  against  it.  It  takes  a  big  man  to  efface  him- 
self for  the  good  of  the  cause.  Your  little  man 
who,  intellectually,  is  so  small  he  has  to  stand  on  a 
shingle  to  look  over  a  cob  will  never  pull  off  a  star 
stunt  like  that. 

"  There  is  one  thing  more  of  which  I  wish  to 
speak.  Into  the  life  of  the  man  who  thinks  clearly, 
who  loves  sincerely,  and  who  cooperates  with  his 
fellows,  you  must  put  one  more  element,  namely, 
the  element  of  faith. 

"  The  bee  is  the  best  house  builder  we  know. 
He  knows  how  to  build  the  strongest  house  with 
the  least  material. 

"  The  spider  is  the  best  bridge  builder.  He 
knows  how  to  put  in  his  guy  ropes,  stays  and  sup- 
ports to  make  them  stay  put. 

"  The  wasp  is  the  original  paper  maker.  He 
puts  in  oil  enough  to  keep  out  rain,  and  asbestos 
enough  to  keep  out  the  fire. 


184  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

"The  beaver  is  the  best  dam  builder  in  the 
world.  In  the  storm,  his  culverts  do  not  wash  out 
the  way  ours  do. 

"  Now  bring  them  together,  the  bee,  the  spider, 
the  wasp,  the  beaver.  Draw  a  circle  around  them. 
Can  you  give  them  any  pointers?  No,  you  can- 
not. You  can  take  lessons  from  them,  but  you 
can't  instruct  them.  They  have  arrived. 

"  Now  break  the  circle  and  let  man  join  them. 
Do  you  think  the  same  concerning  man  ?  No,  you 
do  not.  Why?  Man  knows  that  he  has  not  ar- 
rived, he  is  in  the  way,  and  he  says  to  himself  that 
unless  the  whole  universe  is  a  jumble  of  contradic- 
tions, having  arrived  in  the  lower  realm,  to  be 
consistent  it  must  arrive  in  the  higher  realm  also, 
and  he  says  to  himself,  *  I  am  here  now,  I  may  be 
yonder  to-morrow;  I  am  on  this  shore  to-day;  I 
will  soon  be  on  another  shore,  but  wherever  I  am, 
here  or  there,  on  this  planet  or  another,  I  will  not 
be  on  a  foreign  shore,  never  in  a  strange  country; 
I  will  always  be  at  home,  ever  in  my  Father's 
house,  and  I  will  trust  in  God  while  the  eternities 
march  over  me,  even  as  I  trust  Him  now. 

'  These,  my  friends,  are  the  four  elements  of 
the  forces  that  win — thought,  love,  action,  trust. 
They  are  the  points  of  the  compass  by  which  we 
sail  the  seas  of  time,  and  when  the  boat's  keel 
grates  on  the  eternal  shore  and  the  eternal  hills 
rise  into  view,  we  will  land  and  march  forever- 
more  guided  by  these  great  principles." 


FOECES  THAT  WIN  185 

The  speaker  was  about  to  conclude,  but  the  men 
cheered  so  lustily  that  it  was  evident  they  wished 
to  hear  him  further.  "  Go  on !  Go  on !  "  shouted 
a  voice  from  the  rear,  and  again  the  applause 
broke  forth. 

"  Tell  us  more  about  Lincoln ! "  exclaimed  the 
man,  who  was  called  "  Judge." 

At  the  mention  of  Lincoln's  name,  Dr.  Dith- 
mere's  face  lighted  with  a  new  enthusiasm,  for  he 
had  personally  known  the  great  Commoner.  "  I 
would  like  to  talk  to  you  about  Lincoln,"  he  said, 
"  but  there  isn't  time.  However,  I  will  just  tell 
you  about  the  address  I  heard  him  give  in  Cooper 
Union.  I  was  a  young  man  just  going  to  cast  my 
first  ballot  for  a  president.  I  was  a  strong  Seward 
man.  Lincoln  had  been  announced  to  speak  in 
Cooper  Union.  I  didn't  want  to  go  near  him  and 
I  didn't  want  to  hear  him,  but  I  went  to  please  a 
friend.  The  building  was  packed  to  the  roof! 
When  Lincoln  began  speaking,  there  was  a  faint 
polite  applause  indicating  curiosity  and  courtesy, 
but  no  enthusiasm.  My  first  impression  of  the 
man  was  his  height  and  awkwardness.  He  seemed 
to  me  to  be  the  tallest  man  I  had  ever  seen,  at 
least  seven  feet  tall.  As  he  began  to  speak  in  an 
awkward  way,  I  nudged  my  friend  and  said, 
'  That's  your  Lincoln.  What  do  you  think  of 
him  ?  '  His  awkwardness  lasted  ten  minutes ;  then 
it  disappeared.  The  inflection  of  his  voice  became 
mellow  with  fine  feeling,  and  before  we  were 


186  VINDICATION  OF  BOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

aware  of  it,  he  was  playing  with  us  as  if  we  were 
children,  all.  Then  his  sentences  became  massive ; 
each  one  resounded  like  an  anvil  blow,  and  for 
two  hours  of  cumulative  power  he  continued  to 
speak  and  on  each  occasion  when  we  thought  he 
had  reached  the  highest  level  it  was  possible  to  at- 
tain, he  began  anew  and  when  he  closed  by  say- 
ing, '  Let  us  have  faith  that  right  makes  might, 
and  in  this  faith,  let  us  to  the  end  dare  to  do  our 
duty  as  we  understand  it,'  the  audience,  as  one 
man,  was  lifted  to  its  feet,  calling,  '  Lincoln ! 
Lincoln !  Lincoln ! ' 

"  Bryant,  the  poet  editor  of  the  New  York  Post, 
whom  all  New  York  loved,  tried  to  speak,  but  the 
audience  would  not  listen  to  him.  Horace 
Greeley,  then  in  his  prime,  tried  to  speak,  but  the 
audience  kept  on  cheering,  and  when  at  last  we 
moved  out  of  the  hall,  Lincoln  had  every  man's 
heart.  I  never  saw  an  audience  so  completely  in 
the  hand  of  any  man  as  Lincoln  had  that  Cooper 
Union  audience.  We  were  in  the  grip  of  a  giant; 
we  knew  it,  we  felt  it,  but  the  most  wonderful 
thing  about  it  all  was  the  fact  that  we  did  not  want 
him  to  let  go. 

"  Now,  in  just  a  word,  let  me  draw  four  pic- 
tures, then  blend  them  into  one,  and  I  am  done. 

"  First  picture :  His  student's  lamp  is  a  saucer 
of  lard  with  a  rag  hanging  over  the  edge  of  it. 
His  library  is  four  books — Weem's  Life  of  Wash- 
ington, ^Esop's  Fables,  the  Bible,  and  a  dictionary. 


FOECES  THAT  WIN  187 

Whenever,  in  reading,  he  comes  to  a  word  too  big 
for  him,  he  opens  the  dictionary  and  breaks  the 
word  into  smaller  ones.  He  finds  that  words  are 
like  flowers — they  have  roots;  and  they  are  like 
people — they  have  relatives.  He  is  acquiring  the 
best  vocabulary  of  simple,  Saxon  speech  of  any 
man  of  his  day.  He  is  thinking  without  confusion 
— clearly. 

"  Second  picture:  He  has  floated  on  a  flatboat 
down  the  Ohio  River,  and  on  another  flatboat 
down  the  Mississippi  River,  and  he  finds  himself 
unexpectedly  in  a  slave  market  in  New  Orleans, 
where  they  were  selling  people.  On  the  auction 
block  is  a  young  woman  eighteen  years  of  age. 
She  is  uncommonly  handsome.  She  is  an  octa- 
roon,  and  because  she  has  a  slight  trace  of  negro 
blood  in  her  veins,  she  is  doomed  and  damned  to 
be  sold  on  the  auction  block  as  a  slave.  He  hears 
men  bid,  and  finally  he  hears  the  auctioneer  say, 
'  Sold  for  ten  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.'  A  man 
comes  forward,  puts  down  the  money,  and  takes 
her  away.  She  is  his  property.  As  this  stranger 
looks  on,  he  says  to  himself,  '  That  isn't  right.  If 
the  universe  is  on  the  square,  that  isn't  right.  If 
the  curse  of  Almighty  God  doesn't  smite  a  business 
like  that,  then  there  isn't  any  such  thing  as  the 
curse  of  Almighty  God,  and  if  ever  I  get  a  chance, 
I  will  hit  that  accursed  thing  and  hit  it  hard.' 

"Third  picture:  A  great  debate  is  on  between 
two  giant  intellects.  His  is  one  of  them.  He 


188  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

might  vault  into  the  United  States  Senate  if  he 
plays  to  the  galleries,  but  he  won't.  He  comes 
back  again  and  again  to  this  fundamental  propo- 
sition— '  A  republic  cannot  permanently  endure, 
half  slave  and  half  fr.ee/ 

"  Fourth  picture:  The  time  has  come  when  the 
republic  needs  a  leader.  Not  a  Northern  man,  not 
a  Southern  man,  not  an  Eastern  man,  not  a  West- 
ern man,  but  an  American  man  with  an  American- 
ism as  big  as  the  whole  American  continent.  God 
has  been  training  him  in  his  obscurity,  and  school- 
ing him  in  the  school  of  hard  knocks.  Blocks  of 
hindrances  he  had  changed  into  stepping  stones  of 
usefulness,  and  he  had  gone  up  the  stairs  of 
honour,  into  the  temple  of  a  noble  and  useful  life, 
and  now  the  nation,  fixing  its  eye  on  him,  says, 
'  Come,  be  our  captain,  guide  for  us  the  ship  of 
state;  the  hold  is  full  of  slaves,  the  crew  is  in 
mutiny,  and  she  is  floundering  water-logged  in  the 
broken  waters  of  war.'  And  he  answers  the  call, 
stands  on  the  bridge,  thinks,  loves,  acts,  trusts, 
and  guides  the  ship  into  the  peaceful  waters  of  a 
great  world  power,  and  then  goes  up  to  take  a 
place  imperishable  among  the  men  whose  names 
were  never  meant  to  die.  Star  of  first  magnitude 
in  the  diadem  of  America's  glory,  he  is  known  to 
all  the  world,  but  he  is  ours,  first  of  all  and  for- 
evermore — Abraham  Lincoln. 

"  Sometimes  you  find  a  man  who  lives  in  the 
realm  of  the  mental ;  he  is  clear  and  cold.  Some- 


FORCES  THAT  WIN  189 

times  you  find  a  man  who  lives  in  the  realm  of  the 
emotional:  there  are  two  kinds  of  love;  one  sweet- 
ens the  heart,  one  softens  the  brain.  Sometimes 
you  find  a  man  who  is  all  action;  he  is  off  on  all 
kinds  of  drives.  Sometimes  you  find  a  man  who 
simply  trusts — he  is  visionary.  But  when  you  find 
a  man  in  whose  life  thinking,  loving,  acting  and 
trusting  are  blended,  you  have  the  divine  combus- 
tion we  call — genius. 

"  I  don't  know  what  genius  is.  I  only  know 
there  is  such  a  thing.  Sometimes  when  I  think  of 
genius,  I  think  of  a  man  who  is  eccentric.  But 
not  every  odd  mannerist  who  fools  the  public  with 
self-made  eccentricity  is  a  genius.  Sometimes  I 
think  genius  is  just  knowing.  It  is  knowing,  but 
it  isn't  just  knowing.  I  know  a  man  who  can 
speak,  read  and  write  correctly  seven  different  lan- 
guages, and  he  can't  make  a  living  in  any  one  nor 
all  of  them.  He  has  every  faculty  except  the  fac- 
ulty of  knowing  how  to  use  his  faculties.  He  is  a 
walking  encyclopedia,  stuffed  full  of  facts,  in- 
visible six  days  and  incomprehensible  on  the  sev- 
enth. Sometimes  I  think  genius  is  a  state  of  mind 
that  lives  in  realms  altogether  apart,  among  the 
stars.  But  it  isn't  the  achievement  of  genius  to 
fail  in  the  practical  world. 

"  Genius  is  sensitiveness  of  soul,  the  capacity 
for  taking  infinite  pains,  the  ability  to  light  your 
own  fire,  the  unconscious  wisdom  of  ignorance ;  it 
is  nine-tenths  work,  it  is  power  of  initiative,  it  is 


190  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

knowing  when  to  do,  and  how.  It  is  thinking, 
loving,  acting,  trusting,  blended  in  due  propor- 
tion. 

"  A  genius  in  music  will  take  the  seven  notes 
of  the  musical  scale,  throw  them  over  a  piece  of 
paper,  then  take  his  place  at  the  piano,  sweep  his 
fingers  over  the  keyboard;  the  muffled  hammers 
strike  the  wires,  a  vibration  goes  through  the  at- 
mosphere, strikes  your  auditory  nerve,  sweeps 
clear  your  brain,  floods  your  soul  with  purity,  and 
lifts  you  on  banks  of  melody  into  realms  where  you 
make  resolutions  to  be  good  that  an  angel  couldn't 
keep — genius  in  music. 

"  An  artist  walks  down  a  road,  sees  two  peas- 
ants wearing  wooden  shoes,  hoeing  potatoes.  He 
goes  home.  Along  the  way  he  borrows  a  few  cents 
from  a  casual  acquaintance,  buys  a  few  tubes  of 
colour  and  a  yard  of  canvas.  In  his  studio,  he 
lays  on  his  dyes,  the  colours  supplement  each  other, 
and  there  is  the  potato  patch,  the  peasants,  the 
wooden  shoes,  the  hoe  handle  resting  on  the  shoul- 
ders, the  hands  folded,  the  heads  bowed  in  reverent 
devotion,  the  angelus  bells  pealing  through  the 
evening  sky,  and  all  the  world  is  hushed  in  prayer. 
A  potato  patch,  peasants,  wooden  shoes,  a  few 
cents'  worth  of  colour,  a  yard  of  canvas,  a  great 
picture — genius  in  beautiful  things. 

"  A  poet  walks  along  the  street,  listens  to  laugh- 
ter of  school  children  as  they  go  along  swinging 
their  books.  He  throws  the  alphabet  as  a  lasso 


FOECES  THAT  WIN  191 

around  the  laughter,  and  weaves  it  into  a  song  of 
the  days  gone  by — genius  in  poetry. 

"  Your  Lincoln  takes  the  woe  of  the  slave,  dips 
his  pen,  and  writes  the  greatest  document  of  the 
country — genius  in  statesmanship. 

"  Men,  I  have  a  vision.  This  world  of  ours  is 
to-day  a  neighbourhood.  The  telegraph  and  the 
wireless,  the  cable  and  the  newspaper  have  an- 
nihilated distance  and  space.  Is  there  any  reason 
why  a  neighbourhood  should  not  be  a  brother- 
hood? I  submit  there  is  not.  Through  the  years, 
two  ideals  of  government  have  been  evolved. 
The  democratic,  of  the  people,  for  the  people,  and 
by  the  people,  with  legislative,  judicial  and  execu- 
tive departments,  two  United  States  senators  from 
each  state,  one  congressman  for  every  one  hundred 
and  seventy-five  thousand  of  the  population,  and 
a  president  as  chief  executive.  The  other  ideal  of 
government  is  the  monarchial.  A  man  is  born  to 
the  purple,  a  prince.  By  accident  of  birth,  he 
vaults  into  a  throne  and  commands  the  people  to 
surround  that  throne  and  keep  it  safe.  In  the  in- 
terests of  human  welfare,  this  autocratic  form  of 
government  is  going,  the  democratic  ideal  will 
come,  and  we  will  put  money,  time,  work,  brains 
and  life  into  a  propaganda  of  national  and  inter- 
national fraternity,  and  organize  the  world,  not 
into  alliances,  but  into  a  federation  with  a  court 
of  the  nations,  whose  findings  will  be  as  binding 
as  the  rulings  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the 


192  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEKT  CEEIGHTON 

United  States.  We  are  rich  enough,  wise  enough, 
strong  enough  to  do  the  big  thing.  Some- 
where beneath  the  stars  there  is  the  genius 
who  will  blaze  the  way  into  the  new  world 
order." 

It  was  a  popular  address.  When  Creighton  pro- 
posed a  vote  of  thanks,  it  was  given  heartily  and 
unanimously.  After  the  meeting,  many  of  the 
men  crowded  to  the  front,  and  shaking  the  doc- 
tor's hand,  thanked  him  for  the  inspiration  of  the 
hour. 

"  You  have  a  fine  camp  and  a  wonderful  com- 
pany of  men,"  said  Dr.  Dithmere  to  Creighton, 
as  they  sat  in  his  office  chatting  after  the  ad- 
dress in  the  hut.  "  I  don't  think  that  I  have 
ever  talked  to  a  more  appreciative  audience  any- 
where." 

"  That's  because  you  had  something  to  say,  and 
kept  just  a  few  ideas  ahead  of  the  men  all  the  way 
through,"  replied  Creighton,  with  interest.  "  They 
are  quick  to  respond  to  such  an  address,  but  they 
will  not  listen  to  platitudes.  Any  man  who  thinks 
he  can  hold  them  by  extemporizing  on  common- 
places has  a  few  guesses  coming.  The  men  won't 
stand  for  it.  They  are  not  hands;  they  are  men. 
The  project  is  not  mine;  it  is  theirs.  They  say 
'  we.'  That's  the  secret,  if  there  is  a  secret,  of  the 
way  the  men  stay  by  the  job." 

While  Creighton  and  Dr.  Dithmere  were  en- 
gaged in  conversation  in  the  office,  Swen  and  Sam 


FOECES  THAT  WIN  193 

were  holding  an  important  conference  just  outside 
the  door. 

"  He'll  be  through  in  a  minute,"  said  Sam,  as 
he  folded  the  paper  which  they  had  been  reading. 
"  I  think  we  had  better  wait  here." 

"Ay  tank  yu  ban  right,"  Swen  replied,  "  but  ve 
must  see  him  to-night.  Dis  ban  vot  ve  vant." 

Thus  the  two  men  waited  until  they  saw  Dr. 
Dithmere  leave  the  office,  and  just  as  Creighton 
was  on  the  point  of  turning  out  the  lights,  having 
closed  his  desk,  the  men  came  through  the  door 
and  stood  before  him. 

"  I  think  we  have  it,"  Sam  said  laconically. 
*'  Anyway  we  want  your  help.  This  was  given  to 
me  by  a  man  who  made  his  get-away  before  I  knew 
what  his  errand  was.  He  had  one  of  the  men  call 
me  out  of  the  meeting  and  said  he  had  a  message 
for  me.  '  It  will  explain  itself/  he  said,  '  and  there 
is  no  reply.'  Then  he  went  away  and  I  went  back 
to  the  hut  to  hear  the  lecture.  Swen  and  I  want 
you  to  see  the  letter  he  left."  Sam  handed  to 
Creighton  the  paper  he  held  in  his  hand.  Without 
speaking,  Creighton  opened  the  letter  and  read : 

"FRIEND  SAM:  if  i  may  call  you  so.  i  no  you 
are  surprised  to  get  a  letter  from  me  but  i  hope 
you  wont  be  mad  at  my  writin  to  you.  i  want  to 
tell  you  my  thanks  to  Mr.  Creighton  for  the  way 
he  talked  to  me  when  i  was  in  camp,  i  guess  he 
thot  i  did  not  cair  for  what  he  said  and  at  the  first 
go  off  i  didnt  but  i  node  he  was  a  man  who  had 


194  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEBT  CREIGHTON 

dun  big  work  with  men  and  wasnt  gassin  and  all 
the  boys  in  the  camp  node  it.  i  used  to  think  at 
iiite  what  he  sed  and  i  made  up  my  mind  to  nock 
off  and  tel  and  live  on  the  square  but  they  sent 
word  that  if  i  pulled  off  that  stuff  that  they  would 
get  me.  i  wish  i  hadnt  dun  it.  i  made  up  my  mind 
to  be  a  square  bloke  i  want  a  chance  to  square  it 
and  i  keep  thinkin  it  over  and  over  as  i  go  along, 
it  is  a  long  time  since  it  happened  and  it  is  the  caus 
of  my  being  where  i  am  now.  i  aint  got  well  enuf 
along  to  rite  as  i  would  talk  i  no  i  aint  speled  all 
the  words  rite  in  this  and  lots  of  other  mistakes 
but  the  worst  mistake  i  ever  made  was  when  i  let 
the  gang  put  me  in  a  hole  when  i  swore  to  a  pack 
of  lies  on  Creighton  I  was  brot  up  in  a  poor  house 
until  i  run  away  and  i  never  new  who  my  father 
and  mother  was  and  i  dont  no  my  rite  name  but  i 
had  no  rite  to  do  what  i  dun.  Creighton  is  the 
man  i  think  most  of  in  the  world  the  other  bunch 
is  a  bad  lot  some  day  i  will  tel  what  i  no  and  it 
wont  be  long  i  wish  i  node  you  but  that  would 
spoil  the  game  they  are  spottin  me  every  minit. 

"  FLECK." 

As  Creighton  concluded  the  reading  of  the  let- 
ter, he  looked  first  at  Sam  then  at  Swen,  then  he 
said: 

"  Boys,  I  think  perhaps  the  best  thing  to  do  is  to 
get  a  good  night's  rest.  I'm  not  sure  of  myself. 
Let  us  wait  until  morning.  It  looks  as  if  there 
was  daylight  ahead." 

He  then  turned  to  put  out  the  light,  while  Sam 
and  Swen  quietly  departed. 


XV 
THE  LOST  LIBRARY 

THERE  were  times  when  the  monk 
wrapped  his  cloak  about  him  and  paced 
the  rocky  shelf  on  the  mountainside. 
What  he  said  then  was  not  intended  for  human 
ears.  The  walk  seemed  to  quiet  him,  the  undis- 
turbed communion  to  soften  and  glorify  his  coun- 
tenance, and  as  Quinn  noted  the  mystic  pacing  to 
and  fro,  he  felt  himself  drawn  toward  him  with  a 
strange  power. 

Why  should  he  thus  watch  the  monk,  he  said  to 
himself  when  he  had  just  come  from  the  monas- 
tery where  the  arches  flung  their  shadows  through 
the  deep  interior  and  where  he  felt  the  old  revolt 
against  a  life  that  to  him  seemed  to  be  held  in  the 
mastery  of  carved  devices  shining  in  the  dim  light 
of  the  altar. 

Through  the  door,  Quinn  watched  the  monks  in 
the  chapel  at  their  evening  prayers.  Before  the 
altar  were  the  crucifix  and  the  candles  about  it.  In 
the  dim  light,  the  monks  seemed  sad  and  pallid,  and 
Quinn  wondered  why  men  should  will  to  spend 
their  lives  in  this  fashion.  "  What  God  do  they 
worship,"  he  asked  himself,  "  that  they  think  He 


196  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

requires  such  service  at  their  hands?  Their  mo- 
tives were  the  best.  They  sought  spiritual  light. 
To  them,  religion  was  a  state  of  mind  in  which  all 
of  the  other  obligations  in  life  were  cancelled  in 
the  relationship  of  the  soul  to  God.  But  this  de- 
tachment from  the  world  was  hazy,  visionary.  To 
hide  in  a  monastery  was  quitting  the  game !  " 
Quinn  believed  that  the  currents  of  life  are  the 
same  in  all  men.  To  him,  life  itself  was  the  school 
in  which  men  must  learn  the  lessons  of  self-mas- 
tery. In  this  school,  all  men  are  students,  will- 
ingly or  not.  Some  are  truants,  some  refuse  to 
study,  some  refuse  to  submit  to  discipline.  Yet 
the  school  keeps  on.  That  was  what  life  meant  to 
Quinn,  but — this! 

Twilight  fell  in  the  grim  halls  and  the  monk, 
having  ended  his  vigil,  was  returning  to  the  mon- 
astery. He  saw  Quinn  sitting  on  a  boulder,  look- 
ing out  across  the  sea  and  he  drew  near  and  sat 
down  beside  him.  He  seemed  to  contrast  the  dif- 
ference between  Quinn's  life  and  his  own. 

"  People  who  give  advice,  my  son,"  he  said, 
after  a  pause,  "  are  never  popular.  As  a  rule, 
when  people  ask  for  it,  it  isn't  advice  they  want. 
Generally  they  have  decided  what  they  want  to  do, 
and  ask  endorsement  of  their  plans. 

"  No,  I  won't  offer  you  advice,  but  when  I  think 
of  you,  I  try  to  put  myself  in  your  place.  To  you, 
the  life  we  lead  here  seems  unnatural.  But  to  us 
• — to  any  one,  wherever  we  happen  to  be,  life  is 


THE  LOST  LIBEAEY  197 

lived  in  facts,  values,  ideals  and  obligations.  The 
world  without  matters  little ;  it  is  the  world  within 
that  counts.  To  work  in  the  world  without  is  to 
put  a  fence  around  our  desires.  But  to  renew  our 
life  and  to  kill  distrust,  that  endures!  " 

Quinn  nodded  his  head. 

"  Truth  sometimes  seems  plain  and  humble," 
continued  the  lay-brother.  "  No  doubt  we  make  it 
seem  unpleasant  to  you.  But  truth  is  a  big  idea 
and  we  can't  get  its  meaning  until  we  know  it  in 
relation  to  what  exists  and  what  we  do.  No  man 
who  thinks  wrong  can  act  right.  Dirt  to  the  body 
is  sin  to  the  mind!  Dirt  means  pestilence  and 
death.  Ignorance,  too,  has  its  terrible  conse- 
quences. Ignorance  in  religion  means  supersti- 
tion. Ignorance  in  science  means  intolerance. 
Ignorance  in  politics  means  tyranny:  in  business, 
it  means  disaster.  Everywhere  it  means  confu- 
sion! Now  knowledge  means  information  in  due 
order.  But  knowledge  is  not  easily  acquired. 
Scholarship  never  comes  by  explosion.  The  treas- 
ures of  truth  are  secured  by  patient  toil!  Most 
of  our  troubles  arise  from  wrong  ideas;  we  are 
ignorant  of  the  values  of  life.  Therefore,  society 
is  rent  asunder  and  men  make  war.  Men  have 
thought  and  acted  as  if  the  relationships  of  life 
rested  on  education,  but  that  is  the  relationship  of 
a  man  to  knowledge.  Men  have  sought  to  make 
the  relationships  of  life  rest  on  patriotism,  but  that 
is  the  relationship  of  a  man  to  his  country.  Peo- 


198  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

pie  have  sought  to  base  the  relationships  of  life  on 
aristocracy,  but  that  is  the  relationship  of  a  man 
to  his  social  order.  Or  they  have  tried  to  make 
the  relationships  of  life  rest  on  business,  but  that  is 
the  relationship  of  a  man  to  money.  Where  there 
are  men,  there  are  brothers.  Where  there  are 
brothers,  there  must  be  brotherhood,  and  the  only 
enduring  relationship  of  life  is  the  relationship  of 
man  to  man.  But  all  this  you  have  worked  out 
for  yourself!  " 

But  Ouinn  shook  his  head. 

;'  You  think  the  life  we  live  here  is  unnatural. 
Maybe  so.  It  seems  to  you  that  we  make  poverty 
and  denial  our  chief  concern.  It  looks  to  you  as 
though  we  sought  to  make  crusts  the  symbol  of  our 
religion.  That  may  be  true,  but  not  all  the  truth. 
A  crust  and  religion  go  hand  in  hand  for  the  same 
reason  that  a  crust  and  music,  a  crust  and  art,  and 
a  crust  and  writing,  go  hand  in  hand. 

"  Come  with  me,  my  son,"  the  monk  said,  after 
a  pause.  "  There  is  something  I  have  been  want- 
ing to  show  you,"  and  the  monk  arose  and  led  the 
way  to  a  door  that  was  hidden  under  a  vine.  Be- 
yond it,  a  series  of  steps  led  downward  into  the 
dark.  There  were  rows  of  gloomy  piers  that  ex- 
tended through  the  center  of  a  transept,  and  be- 
tween these,  the  monk  led  the  way  to  the  farther 
end. 

In  passing  over  the  stone  pavement,  Quinn 
could  see  from  the  words  on  the  slabs  that  be- 


THE  LOST  LIBEAEY  199 

neath  them  the  monks  shared  their  resting  place  in 
death. 

Arriving  at  the  end  of  the  transept,  and  passing 
through  a  door,  they  entered  a  low-browed  vault. 
The  walls  had  no  ornament  but  a  crucifix  in  the 
corner,  opposite  the  head  of  a  narrow,  iron  bed- 
stead. These,  and  a  table,  were  the  only  objects 
which  met  Quinn's  eye  as  it  accustomed  itself  to 
the  gloom. 

"What  a  place  is  this!"  he  reflected.  "No 
gleam  of  light  in  the  darkness — no  sound  to  break 
the  silence.  This  is  worse  than  the  prison  Creigh- 
ton  was  in."  And  thinking  of  Creighton,  he 
thought  of  Jean. 

But  presently  he  began  to  take  in  the  situation, 
and  that  the  mantle  of  darkness  would  still  con- 
ceal the  hardness  which  the  candle-light  was  un- 
folding with  flitting  shadows. 

The  monk  was  watching  him  closely. 

"  My  son,"  he  said,  when  he  had  closed  the 
door,  "  when  I  came  to  this  place,  I  spent  my  first 
months  within  these  walls.  Before  I  came,  as  I 
told  you,  I  was  a  teacher."  For  a  moment  he  fal- 
tered, but  in  a  little  while  gathered  composure  to 
go  on.  "  There  is  a  pathos  in  the  life  of  a  teacher. 
He  works  to  free  his  students  from  his  service. 
And  the  day  comes  to  dismiss  the  student,  who 
leaves  the  teacher,  never  to  come  back.  I  taught 
history — the  dawn  of  nationalities.  Our  ancestors 
appear  in  history  as  a  nation  already  formed,  with 


200  VINDICATION  OF  EGBERT  CEEIQHTON 

customs  and  language  and  a  civilization  of  their 
own. 

"  In  my  college  work,  I  gave  myself  to  the  study 
of  the  beginnings  of  this  nationality:  on  coming 
here,  I  took  up  this  work  again. 

"  I  studied  the  history  of  single  words.  In  do- 
ing so,  I  found  that  they  revealed  culture  and  the 
development  of  the  people  using  them,  for  if  they 
had  a  word  for  an  object,  the  thing  itself  must 
have  existed. 

"  After  studying  the  history  of  a  single  word, 
I  made  comparisons,  and  found  many  words  of 
widely  separated  nations  derived  from  the  same 
root.  I  now  began  to  write  down  lists  of  things  I 
considered  valuable  in  tracing  these  words  to 
their  origin,  such  as  the  Greek  '  Eos/  the  Latin 
'  Aurora,'  the  English  '  Easter/  the  Goddess  of 
the  Dawn,  dwelling  in  the  East,  heralding  the  re- 
turn of  Spring — Easter — the  time  we  celebrate  the 
resurrection  of  Christ. 

"  One  day  I  chanced  upon  a  volume  with  a 
cover  upon  it.  From  the  prompting  of  curiosity, 
I  removed  the  cover  and  found,  inside,  the  plan  of 
a  cathedral.  As  I  looked,  and  as  I  was  about  to 
lay  it  aside,  I  was  struck  with  the  resemblance  it 
bore  to  our  monastery.  Only  there  were  too  many 
rooms,  an  additional  wing  which  does  not  appear 
in  this  building,  there  being  none,  as  you  know. 
Again  on  the  point  of  laying  it  aside,  I  noticed  a 
heavy  line  of  a  different  colour  drawn  through  the 


THE  LOST  LIBEAEY  201 

plan,  as  if  to  cut  off  the  wing  referred  to.  Let 
me  show  you." 

The  monk  now  arose,  and  drawing  aside  the 
table,  lifted  a  trap-door,  and  from  a  steel-bound 
wooden  box,  containing  an  endless  variety  of  man- 
uscripts, the  monk  drew  out  a  parchment  on  which, 
when  close  to  the  light,  Quinn  could  trace  the 
plans. 

When  he  had  closed  the  door,  the  monk  seemed 
agitated.  For  a  while  he  sat  in  silence.  The  room 
was  dark;  only  a  small  effulgence  marked  the  tal- 
low dip  at  which  Quinn  gazed,  waiting  for  the 
monk  to  continue  his  story. 

"  My  heart  aches,"  said  the  monk,  raising  his 
head  after  a  lengthy  pause.  "  But  I  must  hurry. 
Where  did  I  stop?" 

"  The  ground  plans  of  the  monastery,"  an- 
swered Quinn. 

"  Yes.  The  rocks,  as  you  know,  rise  high  along 
the  western  walls.  A  fissure  in  one  of  the  boulders 
caught  my  attention  one  day,  and  as  I  looked  more 
closely  at  the  wall,  I  knew  the  arrangement  of  the 
rocks  around  the  foundation  was  artificial.  Then 
the  floor  plan  flashed  into  my  mind  again,  and  I 
explored  the  interior  of  the  monastery,  sounding 
the  walls  and  the  floors. 

"  One  day  in  the  crypt  that  contains  the  tomb 
of  the  beloved  St.  John,  I  was  impressed  by  the 
massiveness  of  its  proportions.  It  was  too  large 
to  have  come  through  the  door,  and  besides  the 


202  VINDICATION  OF  EGBERT  CEEIGHTON 

granite,  smooth  now  as  it  was  the  day  it  came 
from  the  sculptor,  so  different  from  anything  else 
in  the  entire  place,  told  a  story  of  days  long  gone 
by.  '  It  was  placed  here  during  the  erection  of  the 
building/  I  said  to  myself,  '  or  at  least  before  the 
walls  surrounded  it.' 

"  On  the  tomb  is  an  effigy  of  the  Apostle. 
Matchless  sculpture!  Not  a  chip  could  I  find  in 
the  work.  The  joints  are  so  matched  that  they 
defy  the  point  of  a  knife  blade.  The  sides  are  the 
same. 

"  But  the  floor  appeared  to  me  to  be  of  a  more 
recent  date.  The  pattern  was  perfect,  save  for  a 
small  strip  at  one  end  of  the  tomb.  It  was  col- 
oured to  match  the  mosaic,  but  of  different  mate- 
rial and  consisting  of  one  solid  piece.  And  the 
joint  was  uncemented !  For  as  I  pried,  it  moved. 
Not  knowing  why,  I  brought  my  weight  to  bear 
upon  it.  To  my  consternation,  it  suddenly  gave 
way,  slipped  in  toward  the  center  of  the  tomb,  and 
I  heard  it  fall  with  an  echo  into  something,  deep 
and  wide. 

"  The  excitement  of  this  experience  was  so  in- 
tense, my  temples  throbbed  so  with  pain  that  I 
staggered  from  the  crypt  for  air,  or  I  believe  I 
should  have  died. 

"  But  in  my  eagerness  to  know  more,  I  was  soon 
in  the  crypt  again.  But  you  shall  see.  Come !  " 

The  monk  arose,  lighted  another  candle,  and 
beckoning  Quinn  to  follow  him,  opened  the  door 


THE  LOST  LIBRARY  203 

and  led  the  way  into  the  crypt  that  formed  a  side 
room  adjoining  the  one  they  had  just  left.  It  was 
but  a  few  steps  out  of  one  door  and  into  another, 
and  a  few  yards  to  the  left.  On  entering  the  room, 
Quinn  found  everything  just  as  the  monk  had  de- 
scribed it. 

Without  a  word,  the  monk  closed  the  door,  giv- 
ing Quinn  the  candle  as  he  did  so.  A  strip  of  hard 
wood,  about  six  inches  in  width  and  three  and  a 
half  feet  in  length,  coloured  to  match  the  mosaic 
floor,  was  now  lifted  from  the  place  into  which  it 
had  been  perfectly  fitted. 

The  monk  knelt  down,  reached  through  the 
opening,  touched  a  hook  at  one  end  and  then  at 
the  other,  and  as  he  once  more  arose  to  his  feet, 
he  lifted  to  one  side  the  marble  slab  that  formed 
the  end  of  the  sarcophagus.  During  all  this  time, 
not  a  word  had  passed  between  them,  and  the 
monk,  in  apparent  self-forgetfulness,  took  the 
candle  and  turning  around,  let  himself  down  into 
the  opening.  The  flickering  light  that  stole  its  way 
into  the  weird  gloom  lit  up  the  impressive  features 
of  the  monk  as  he  descended  beneath  the  tomb. 

"  It  is  but  ten  steps  down,"  said  the  monk.  "  I 
will  go  before  and  light  the  way.  You  will  have 
no  trouble  in  following  me.  Do  as  I  do." 

The  voice  was  reassuring,  and  heeding  instruc- 
tions, Quinn  turned  around,  let  himself  down  into 
the  opening,  and  as  he  did  so  his  foot  touched  the 
first  step.  Down,  down,  lower,  lower,  deeper, 


204  VINDICATION  OF  EGBERT  CEEIGHTON 

deeper,  blacker,  blacker,  step  by  step,  and  Quinn 
stood  at  the  monk's  side  in  a  narrow  passageway 
between  the  two  damp,  crumbling  walls.  Pro- 
ceeding along  the  corridor,  they  came  to  an  open- 
ing that  led  into  a  series  of  larger  rooms.  The 
galleries  were  dark,  the  corridors  spectral,  the 
arches  somber. 

The  monk  urged  Quinn  to  keep  close  to  him  to 
see  his  way,  but  as  Quinn  followed  his  guide,  it 
was  not  without  a  sense  of  terror.  He  felt  as 
though  he  were  going  to  living  burial.  He  walked 
in  the  fear  of  his  own  footsteps,  troubled  lest  they 
should  startle  into  wake  fulness  some  sleeping 
creatures.  It  seemed  to  him  that  from  out  the  past 
whither  they  were  intruding,  he  could  feel  the 
hand  of  ages,  and  desolation  chilled  his  heart.  But 
through  it  all,  close  to  the  monk,  neither  heeding 
nor  choosing,  nor  yet  knowing  the  way,  he  was 
brought  by  an  entrance  into  a  large  square  room 
where  he  saw  a  rocky  ceiling,  the  crumbling  walls, 
the  sandstone  floor. 

After  a  pause,  the  monk  said,  "  The  box  from 
which  I  took  the  parchments  holds,  as  you  saw, 
many  papers  and  manuscripts — the  fruit  of  my 
life's  work,  of  years  of  study.  These  slabs  and 
figures  that  you  see  formed  the  materials  with 
which  I  worked.  Hold  the  candle  and  I  will  show 
you." 

The  monk  drew  a  square  of  stone  from  a  shelf 
and,  pointing  to  the  inscriptions  it  bore,  said : 


THE  LOST  UBEAEY  205 

"  Here,  in  the  words  Darius,  Cyrus,  Xerxes, 
Persia  and  Zoroaster,  the  third  letter  is  always  the 
same.  This,  however,  was  not  enough  to  give  me 
the  clue  that  I  needed.  I  wanted  to  know  for  a 
certainty  that  these  letters  spelled  the  names  I 
have  mentioned.  I  studied  until  I  saw  that  if  this 
word,  as  you  see  it  here,  meant  Xerxes,  it  would 
correspond  with  the  last  syllable  of  Artaxerxes, 
there.  I  found  it  so,  and  held  the  key  to  open  the 
door  of  four  thousand  years. 

"  These  moulds  of  bricks  arranged  on  the  shelf 
are  engraved.  This  engraving  was  done  with  an 
iron  pen  before  the  bricks  were  hardened.  The 
bricks  are  volumes  from  Assyrian,  Persian  and 
Babylonian  libraries.  They  vary  in  shape  and  size, 
as  you  see.  The  larger  ones  are  monumental 
slabs.  Here  are  the  regular  sizes,  the  shape  of  an 
ordinary  brick;  while  here" — and  the  monk 
crossed  the  room,  "  are  barrel-shaped  volumes, 
revolving  on  the  pedestal  upon  which  they  rest; 
the  slightest  touch  turning,  as  you  see,  not  the  leaf 
but  the  circular  book,  as  you  stand  before  it  to  read 
its  contents. 

"  These  small  discs  with  a  single  mark  bear 
the  title  of  the  volume.  Passing  in  this  disc 
to  the  librarian,  one  obtained  the  desired  vol- 
ume. 

"  This  was  the  form  in  which  ancient  books 
were  written,  and  it  was  well  that  it  was  so.  Writ- 
ten on  these  hard  substances,  the  books  have  lasted 


206  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

through  the  centuries,  whereas  our  paper  volumes 
would  have  crumbled  long  ago. 

"  These  statues,  monuments  and  figures  also  are 
engraved.  History  is  written  upon  them. 

"  But  this  is  not  all.    Come  over  to  this  side." 

Following  the  monk,  Quinn  stood  before  a  low, 
broken  doorway  that  led  into  a  smaller  chamber. 

Creeping  through  in  obedience  to  the  monk's 
example,  Quinn  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  a 
series  of  benches  arranged  in  groups  of  three,  each 
a  stone  slab  bearing  a  mummy. 

Inscriptions  upon  the  wall  were  so  obliterated  as 
to  baffle  any  attempt  to  decipher  them. 

In  several  places  Quinn  could  see  letters  and 
pictures  of  a  peculiar  character  chiselled  on  blocks 
of  stone. 

"  With  these  mummies,"  said  the  monk,  "  I 
found  many  rolls  of  papyrus,  and  from  the  papyri 
taken  from  that  mummy,"  pointing  to  one  in  the 
center,  "  I  was  able  to  translate  a  psalm  of  praise 
to  the  god,  Osirus.  By  means  of  this  inscription 
written  here  in  four  languages,  three  of  which  I 
could  read,  I  could  at  last  decipher  the  Egyptian 
hieroglyphs. 

"  Here  is  the  last  mummy  upon  which  I  was 
working,  only  partly  unrolled,  as  you  see.  Hold 
the  candle." 

The  monk  bent  over  the  mummy  that  lay  on  the 
slab,  and  as  Quinn  held  the  light  over  him,  he  re- 
moved the  linen  casements.  It  was  a  delicate  task, 


THE  LOST  LIBBARY  207 

but  the  monk  did  it  deftly.  Yard  after  yard  of  the 
cloth  was  unwound.  On  coming  at  last  to  the  sub- 
stance between  the  body  and  the  cloth,  the  monk 
removed  it,  very  carefully,  from  the  head  of  the 
mummy.  Now  Quinn  could  see  the  features  of  a 
person  embalmed  for  thirteen  hundred  years  be- 
fore the  birth  of  Christ. 

"  You  can  see,"  the  monk  said,  as  he  gave  Quinn 
a  ring  and  a  scarabeus,  "  from  this  ring  and  this 
scarab  that  the  person  here  embalmed  was  of  high 
rank.  Here  is  his  story,  written  partly  on  papyrus 
and  some  of  it  on  the  mummy  cloth,"  and  as  Quinn 
took  up  a  piece  of  the  linen  to  look  at  the  inscrip- 
tion, he  noted  that,  although  it  was  thick  and  yel- 
low, the  linen  was  sound. 

Suddenly  the  monk  hesitated.  He  lifted  the 
light  and  looked  around  him.  There  were  the 
rows  of  Egyptian  mummies  and  the  strips  of 
mummy  cloth.  He  looked  at  the  clammy  floor,  at 
the  ceiling,  mouldy  and  awe-inspiring,  then  at 
Quinn.  Placing  his  hand  upon  his  forehead,  he 
stood  a  moment,  then  said,  "  I  am  tired ;  the  air 
stifles  me.  We  must  go." 

Quinn  followed  the  monk  in  silence. 

Once  more  the  monk  stopped  as  if  to  make  a 
general  survey  of  the  place,  then  he  motioned 
Quinn  through  the  door,  and  followed  him  along 
the  passage  that  led  to  the  steps.  The  monk  gave 
Quinn  the  candle  and  helped  him  to  ascend. 

Above  them  was  the  tomb,  and  as  Quinn  as- 


208  VINDICATION  OF  ROBERT  CREIGHTON 

cended,  he  grew  faint,  but  he  succeeded  in  creeping 
through  the  opening  beneath  the  crypt,  and  the 
monk  was  at  his  side  a  moment  later.  The  slab 
was  now  replaced,  and  together  they  proceeded  to 
the  room  they  had  left  upon  this  most  extraordi- 
nary expedition.  Quinn  resumed  his  place  on  the 
bench  as  the  monk  put  the  candle  upon  the  table. 

"  A  strange  world  would  this  be  in  which  to 
live,"  exclaimed  the  monk,  "if  we  had  no  books, 
no  writings  of  any  sort  whatever!  Think  of  liv- 
ing with  all  the  libraries  destroyed!  And  yet  a 
man  tried  precisely  to  do  this  thing. 

"  In  the  seventh  century  was  the  camel  driver, 
Mohammed.  He  found  the  Arabs  of  the  East  di- 
vided into  warring  camps.  These,  he  united  in  a 
combination  of  religion  and  militarism.  As  a 
prophet  of  God,  he  swept  his  world  befdte  him. 
To  the  victors  in  battle,  he  promised  the  gold  of 
the  infidel,  and  to  the  slain,  the  women  of  Para- 
dise. Swarms  of  Saracens  sprang  from  the 
ground !  Desert  and  city  resounded  alike  with  the 
cry,  '  Death  to  the  infidel ! '  Horsemen  would 
pounce  upon  a  city,  conquer  it,  give  it  over  to 
pillage  and  the  sword.  The  old  who  fled  for 
refuge  to  the  churches  perished  in  the  flames.  The 
young  were  gathered  into  the  market-place,  cata- 
logued, and  sold  as  slaves. 

"  In  Alexandria,  the  world's  great  library  was 
located.  Seven  hundred  thousand  volumes ! 

"  '  If  the  writings  agree  with  the  Koran/  said 


THE  LOST  LIBRABY  209 

the  Moslems,  'they  are  not  necessary;  if  they  do 
not  agree  with  the  Koran,  they  are  pernicious;  in 
any  case,  they  are  useless;  let  the  books  be  des- 
troyed.' 

"  From  this  roll  written  in  Arabic,  I  learned 
that  when  the  Patriarch  of  Alexandria  saw  that 
Saracens  would  capture  the  city,  and  having 
learned  of  their  purpose  to  destroy  the  library,  he 
ordered  a  collection  of  its  most  valued  treasures 
to  be  made  and  had  them  carried  to  the  place 
where  you  just  saw  them  for  safe  keeping. 

"  But  the  Patriarch  was  killed,  Alexandria 
levelled,  and  seven  hundred  thousand  books  des- 
troyed, as  everybody  supposed,  and  the  world 
never  knew  the  difference!  All  this  is  here  re- 
corded. I  could  not  believe  the  record  to  be  true. 
But  see  the  proof. 

"  Here  are  copies  of  the  Iliad  and  of  the  Odys- 
sey, supposed  to  have  been  burned. 

"  Here  is  Euclid.  Here  is  the  Gospel  of  Philo, 
the  Jew  of  Alexandria,  beginning  with  the  very 
words  of  John,  and  giving  the  life  of  Christ." 

Without  waiting  for  comment,  the  monk  con- 
tinued rapidly: 

"  I  was  now  no  longer  in  doubt  concerning  the 
story  of  the  lost  library,  and  I  redoubled  my  ef- 
forts to  read  the  records  that  surrounded  me.  The 
ancients  lived  again  and  I  lived  with  them.  This 
is  the  result." 

The  monk  now.  opened  a  'box  and,  sitting  down 


210  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

beside  it,  placed  its  contents  upon  his  knee.  "  Look 
at  these  treasures,  my  son,"  he  said. 

"  A  map  of  the  world  as  it  was  known  to  the 
ancients !  It  represents  the  earth  as  a  circular  disc 
surrounded  by  a  vast  ocean  with  northern  Europe 
looking  to  them  very  much  as  the  center  of  Africa 
appears  to  us  to-day  and  described  as  a  country, 
cold,  damp  and  forlorn. 

"  In  this  roll  you  will  find  the  different  accounts 
of  a  deluge  as  I  found  them  engraved  on  the 
monuments  you  saw.  The  records  vary.  The 
Chaldeans  said,  for  example,  it  lasted  but  seven 
days,  but  all  speak  of  it,  and  the  fact  that  each  of 
the  old  historians  has  a  record  of  it,  shows  it  must 
have  been  an  event  which  all  believed  had  oc- 
curred. 

"  Here  you  will  find  a  history  of  Carpenish, 
the  capital  city  of  the  Hittites.  The  reco'rd  shows 
them  a  very  prosperous  nation,  a  cultured  people. 
Three  thousand  years  before  Abraham,  they  had 
reached  a  high  state  of  civilization.  They  had 
great  irrigation  systems,  civil  engineering  projects, 
libraries,  deeds  of  property,  contracts  for  the  car- 
rying out  of  great  enterprises,  codes  and  laws. 
They  commemorated  days  of  special  achievement 
and  showed  a  patriotic  affection  for  their  country. 

"  Among  these  Assyrian  records,  marked  as  you 
see  on  the  outside,  you  will  find  transcriptions  of 
legal  and  commercial  transactions.  Here  also  is  a 
code  of  laws,  record  of  conquests,  and  a  receipt 


THE  LOST  LIBBAKY  211 

given  by  Sennacherib  to  Hezekiah  for  talents  of 
silver  and  gold,  with  the  tale  of  a  war  between 
them  that  resulted  in  the  capture  of  thirty  cities 
by  the  Assyrian  armies  and  the  imprisonment  of 
Hezekiah  in  Jerusalem. 

"  In  this  Amorite  record,  you  will  find  how  they 
worshipped  the  gods  of  benefit,  such  as  the  moon 
and  the  sun.  With  them,  you  find  mentioned 
Abraham. 

"  Here  is  the  Egyptian  book  of  anatomy  and 
the  ritual  of  the  dead.  Forty  days  were  set  aside 
as  the  period  for  embalming,  and  seventy  for  the 
time  of  mourning.  The  directions  are  explicit, 
for  when  the  spirit  returned,  as  they  believed  it 
would,  the  body  must  be  in  readiness  to  receive  it. 

"  These  records  from  the  papyrus  in  the 
mummy  room  which  you  saw  are  most  complete. 
Here  are  records  of  the  earliest  civilization.  Four 
thousand  years  before  Christ,  the  organized  forces 
of  Egypt  built  a  highway  from  the  ocean  beyond 
Asia  to  Africa.  Records  tell  how  they  held  pos- 
session of  the  world. 

"  You  will  find  the  record  of  Joseph,  who  be- 
came a  prince  under  the  shepherd  kings,  and  an  ac- 
count of  how  the  last  of  these  was  driven  from 
the  throne  by  a  king  from  the  south,  who  made 
Joseph  and  his  people  slaves. 

"  These  bits  of  jewelry,  taken  from  the  mum- 
mies, are  beautifully  inlaid,  as  you  see.  The  large 
pieces  were  hung  about  the  neck  by  chains.  The 


212  VINDICATION  OF  ROBERT  CEEIGHTON 

smaller  sizes  were  worn  about  the  arm  or  wrist. 
Some  of  the  inscriptions  give  the  names  of  the 
owners.  The  women  adorned  themselves  with 
jewelry  for  special  occasions,  the  records  tell  us, 
and  for  religious  festivals.  The  women  of  Israel 
secured  such  ornaments  for  the  Exodus. 

"  Here  we  read  of  the  marriage  of  a  princess  of 
Egypt  to  Solomon,  and  a  record  of  his  burial  on 
the  hillside  east  of  Jerusalem.  His  history  is  in- 
scribed on  papyrus,  says  the  record,  and  placed  in 
his  tomb,  where  he  sleeps  to  this  day  with  the 
other  kings  of  the  Jews. 

"  And  this  record,"  he  concluded,  taking  up  an- 
other roll,  "  is  a  translation  of  the  writing  on  the 
pillars  you  saw ;  they  will  tell  you  about  Heliopolis, 
where  Moses,  as  a  student,  abode.  Here  he  lived 
as  a  son  of  the  princess,  instructed  in  all  of  the 
wisdom  of  her  people." 

The  monk  was  about  to  continue,  but  the  scroll 
dropped  to  the  floor.  Ouinn  reached  out  a  hand  to 
steady  him — even  helped  him  to  sit  down. 

After  a  long  silence,  the  monk  said,  "  Within 
these  walls,  my  son,  are  dwelling  four  thousand 
years.  Within  these  corridors,  I  have  toiled  on 
into  the  deep  recesses  of  the  centuries.  But  far 
from  the  light  of  day,  I  have  looked  up  through  a 
well  of  darkness  and  have  seen  the  heavens  filled 
with  stars. 

"  Here  is  the  oldest  library  in  the  world,  and 
the  best.  But  you  did  not  see  it  all.  The  ancients 


THE  LOST  LIBEAEY  213 

were  chemists  as  well  as  historians.  They  made 
bronze  metal,  annealed  glass,  they  were  skilled  in 
imitating  precious  stones,  they  knew  how  to  tem- 
per steel,  and  they  made  a  cement  more  enduring 
than  granite.  They  used  devices  in  their  giant 
building  to  move  large  masses  of  stone.  The  col- 
ours on  their  walls  are  shining  after  many  thou- 
sand years. 

"  Wisdom  is  ours,  but  not  in  its  beginning,  my 
son.  We  are  here  for  a  day,  the  heirs  of  all  the 
ages.  We  only  reap  what  they  have  sown. 

"  Take  these  papers,  give  them  to  the  world. 
I  lay  on  you  the  holy  obligation  to  dispense  their 
wisdom." 

Quinn  was  moved.  "  I  trust,"  he  said,  "  that 
this  commission  given  into  my  hands  will  succeed 
better  than  the  one  on  which  I  came." 

'''  You  will  succeed,"  said  the  monk,  with  a  curi- 
ous fervour.  And  lifting  his  old  hands,  took 
Ouinn's  into  his  own. 

"  Have  you  pondered  the  wonder  of  your  com- 
ing to  us — in  spite  of  sea  and  tempest — to  your 
promised  destination  ?  " 

Quinn  nodded — but  not  then  nor  afterward  was 
he  sure  of  what  the  monk  held  treasured  for  him, 
in  ambition,  in  his  mind. 


XVI 
BETH  AND  JEAN 

THE  fall  of  the  year  had  come,  and  with 
it  the  bracing  air.    The  rains  had  turned 
the  mountainsides  into  blankets  of  green- 
ery and   spread   them   with  wild   flowers.     Beth 
had  many  friends  she  remembered  with  birthday 
greetings,  and  at  Christmas  time  with  gifts.     The 
presents  she  always  selected  with  special  care. 

"  There,"  she  said  to  Jean  one  day.  "  I  wish 
I  could  see  Amy's  eyes  when  she  opens  her  box; 
she  needs  all  the  comfort  that  we  can  put  into  her 
life." 

"  I  don't  suppose  it  is  right,"  Jean  replied,  "  but 
I  dread  the  coming  of  the  holiday  season.  By 
this  time  we  had  planned  to  be  married,  but 

now r"  and  her  voice  broke  as  her  eyes  filled. 

"  I've  tried  to  be  brave,  but  I've  reached  the  end ; 
I  can't  go  on.  I'm  dead,  but  I  can't  die,  and  I 
wish  I  could !  " 

"You  are  brave,  dear,"  said  Beth,  with  quiet 
kindness.  "  Better  times  will  come.  I  haven't 
given  up  Quinn's  return.  I  have  a  feeling,  it  al- 
most amounts  to  a  conviction,  although  I  don't 
know  what  to  base  it  on,  that  Quinn  is  alive,  and 
that  some  day  he  will  come  back  to  you." 

214 


BETH  AND  JEAN  216 

Jean  swept  her  face  with  a  startled  glance. 
"  You  are  not  keeping  anything  from  me,  are 
you  ?  "  she  cried. 

"  No,  Jean,  I  don't  know,"  replied  the  other, 
"  but  I  believe.  And  don't  wish  yourself  dead ! 
Think  of  the  help  you  have  been  to  so  many  peo- 
ple! You  are  singing  as  you  never  sang  before. 
There's  a  yearning  sympathy  in  your  voice  that 
sends  us  on  a  pilgrimage  to  a  holy  shrine.  Duke 
told  me  what  the  men  said  after  you  sang  for 
them.  My  dear,  with  your  gifts,  you  are  wonder- 
fully blessed !" 

"  You  are  so  good  to  me !  "  Jean  replied.  "  For 
your  sake  and  Duke's,  I  have  tried  to  be  brave. 
Duke  has  been  so  kind!  With  all  his  money,  he 
doesn't  use  it  for  a  crutch.  He  has  learned  to 
stand  on  his  own  feet;  even  if  his  father's  for- 
tune were  swept  away,  he  wouldn't  fall.  I'm  glad 
for  you,  dear,"  Jean  concluded;  and  as  she  kissed 
Beth,  both  arose  and  walked  out  on  to  the  veranda. 

As  they  came  through  the  door,  a  rough  man 
came  up  the  walk  and  said : 

"  Beg  pardon,  ma'am.  They  told  me  at  the 
camp  that  the  lady  who  sings  for  the  men  could  be 
found  here,"  and  he  paused,  looking  first  at  Beth, 
then  at  Jean.  Beth  nodded  to  Jean,  and  said, 
"  This  is  the  lady." 

The  fellow  made  an  awkward  salute.  He  was 
a  man  beyond  middle  life,  stout,  with  blond  hair 
and  the  ruddy  complexion  of  a  seaman. 


216  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

"  I  met  a  pal  of  mine,"  he  said,  addressing  Jean, 
"  the  one  that  worked  in  the  camp  a  while  back. 
We  was  yarning  about  what  happened  to  us  on  the 
Norman,  and  he  said  that  you  was  a  friend  of  the 
ship's  doctor.  He  said  he  told  you  the  last  time 
he  saw  him  he  was  standin'  on  the  bridge  when 
the  ship  listed,  and  when  I  told  him  my  story,  he 
said,  '  Dutch,'  says  he,  '  you  go  right  on  up  to  the 
camp  and  find  that  girl  and  tell  her  what  you 
know.  She's  the  real  thing,'  says  he,  '  and  I  owe 
the  Doc  my  right  hand,  and  anything  I  can  do  for 
a  friend  of  his,  I'm  bound  to  see  done.'  I'm 
booked  to  sail  to-morrow,  so  I  just  came  up  to 
tell  you." 

The  sailor  paused  a  moment  as  if  in  search  of  a 
starting  point  for  his  narrative.  Beth  invited  him 
to  a  seat  on  the  veranda.  He  sat  for  a  moment 
twirling  his  small  white  sailor  hat;  then  looking 
into  Jean's  eager  eyes,  he  said: 

;<  You  see,  it  was  this  way.  I  was  on  a  raft. 
We  had  eight  men  aboard.  When  day  broke, 
after  we'd  been  all  night  afloat,  the  Doc  came 
alongside  the  raft,  lifted  himself  up  out  of  the  sea 
and  crawled  in  with  the  bunch  like  as  if  he'd  come 
up  out  of  the  bottom  of  the  ocean.  We  drifted 
around  for  four  days  and  nights,  without  food 
and  without  water.  One  after  another  of  the  men 
faded  out  and  at  last  there  was  only  two  of  us  left 
— the  Doc  and  me.  We  didn't  do  much  talkin', 
but  we  held  on.  The  Doc  was  young  and  strong, 


BETH  AND  JEAN  217 

and  he  had  his  nerve  with  him  every  minute.  Just 
here  is  where  my  story  pinches  out.  I  don't  know 
how  it  happened;  I  was  just  about  gone,  but  it 
seems  the  Doc  saw  a  sail,  and  nailed  his  shirt  to  a 
plank,  and  the  first  I  knew  after  that  was  when  I 
come  to  on  the  deck  of  a  brig  that  had  picked  us 
up.  We  sailed  along  a  few  days,  but  the  Doc  was 
all  in,  and  they  thought  he  was  goin'  to  die.  You 
see,  they  don't  like  for  a  man  to  die  aboard  ship, 
and  seein'  they  was  goin'  to  put  off  some  goods  on 
an  island,  they  just  picks  the  Doc  up  and  lets  him 
down  the  side  into  a  boat,  takes  him  ashore,  and 
when  they  came  back  and  we  sailed  away,  he 
wasn't  with  us." 

"  They  didn't  abandon  him  to  die,  deserted  and 
alone !  "  Jean  asked,  eagerly. 

"No,  lady,  no!  Sailors  wouldn't  do  that  to  a 
man  like  the  Doc.  They  liked  him  and  they 
thought  he  would  stand  more  show  pullin'  through 
ashore  than  on  board  the  brig.  He  was  alive,  and 
I'll  just  give  it  as  my  opinion,  he  wasn't  a-dyin'; 
all  he  needed  was  time  and  rest.  As  I  said,  he 
was  young  and  strong,  and  he  ain't  the  kind  that 
gives  in." 

"  Then  why  haven't  I  heard  from  him?  "  Jean 
asked. 

"  I'm  bringin'  you  word,  ain't  I  ?  I'm  tellin' 
you,  I  think  he's  alive;  you  can't  kill  him,  he's 
tough,  and  what's  more,  he  ain't  the  stuff  that 
caves  in." 


218  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

"  May  I  ask  your  name  ?  "  Jean  asked  presently, 
when  the  man  made  a  shift  to  rise. 

"Dutch.  Just  tell  him  Dutch  called  —  he'll 
know.  I'm  sailin'  to-morrow,  as  I  told  you,  and 
I  must  be  off  now,"  and  bidding  them  good-bye, 
the  sailor  abruptly  started  down  the  path. 

"  Thank  you !  "  Jean  managed  to  call  after  him ; 
then  she  went  into  the  house  to  weep  silently,  as 
only  a  grieving  woman  can  weep. 

Beth  had  stayed  on  the  veranda;  and  as  the 
sailor  left,  she  was  accosted  by  a  man  who  asked 
her: 

"Where's  the  half-breed?" 

"  Is  it  Sam  you're  looking  for?  " 

"  Yes,  the  Indian." 

"  He  isn't  here  now,"  Beth  replied,  wrath  fully. 
"And  I'd  advise  you  not  to  be  on  the  premises 
when  Sam  returns,"  and  so  saying,  she  went  into 
the  house. 

For  a  long  time  she  sat  in  a  rocking-chair,  medi- 
tating. Then  she  drew  near  Jean  and,  stroking 
her  hair  gently,  said : 

"Isn't  life  a  muddle?  Dad  used  to  say  there 
was  a  difference  between  a  riddle  and  a  muddle. 
A  riddle,  some  one  knows  how  to  solve,  but  there's 
no  solution  to  a  muddle.  I  confess  it  looks  like  a 
muddle  to  me.  Here  you  are,  in  love  with  Ouinn, 
and  he  in  love  with  you,  and  you're  separated. 
How  happy  you  both  would  be  if  only  you  could 
be  together!  And  there  is  that  beast,  Brunner, 


BETH  AND  JEAN  219 

out  there;  he  has  come  into  the  mountains  on  a 
hunting  trip  and  is  looking  for  Sam.  He  hasn't 
been  married  a  year  and  his  wife  has  gone  home 
broken-hearted,  her  life  wrecked.  It's  not  that  he 
is  ignorant,"  Beth  continued,  as  if  speaking  to  her- 
self. "  He  has  had  every  advantage  that  educa- 
tion and  money  can  give  a  man,  but  to  him,  a 
woman  is  a  pastime,  to  be  taken  as  he  takes  a  ciga- 
rette. He  can  blow  pretty  rings  of  smoke ;  he  can 
drink  without  spilling  the  contents  over  his  shirt 
front;  he  has  a  fine  collection  of  stale  jokes;  but  if 
any  one  were  to  talk  to  him  about  keeping  his  head 
level,  his  heart  pure,  his  hands  profitably  occupied, 
he  wouldn't  know  what  he  meant." 

Jean  lay  still — only  half  listening.  She  was  pon- 
dering the  sailor's  story.  Quinn  was  alive,  per- 
haps— at  least  the  sailor  thought  so.  Then  she 
thought  of  the  contrast  Brunner's  life  presented. 
"  Quinn  was  capable,  and  he  was  pure-minded,  like 
a  good  coin,  passing  current  anywhere ;  like  a  good 
apple,  sweet  and  sound."  That  was  the  reason 
she  had  loved  him.  He  was  good,  and  he  was 
good  for  something. 

Beth  still  thought  on  about  Brunner.  Presently 
she  spoke,  nodding  to  the  Christmas  package  she 
had  wrapped  the  little  while  before. 

"  Brunner  was  at  one  time  engaged  to  Amy. 
He  became  acquainted  with  her,  won  her  confi- 
dence, her  love,  gave  her  an  engagement  ring, 
promised  to  marry  her ;  then  ruined  her,  and  threw 


220  VINDICATION  OP  EOBEET 

her  down.  He  went  right  on  with  his  dancing — 
and  all  the  rest  of  it.  Nobody  turned  him  down ; 
and  after  a  while  he  married  his  present  wife. 
The  organ  played  the  wedding  march,  they  were 
married,  received  the  congratulations  of  their 
friends,  and  all  the  while  Amy,  whose  life  he  had 
spoiled,  stood  outside  the  pale  of  sympathy  and 
help."  Beth's  lips  quivered  as  she  concluded. 
"  Dad  gave  her  money  and  sent  her  away.  To- 
day she's  a  wreck  of  the  girl  she  was.  I  can  get 
along  without  hell,  all  right.  I  don't  need  it  for 
my  friends,  but  what  I  want  to  know  is,  what  are 
you  going  to  do  with  a  wretch  like  Brunner,  with- 
out it? 

"  But  if  everything  isn't  wrong,  he'll  get  his  be- 
fore the  day  is  done.  When  you're  through  with 
some  things,  you're  not  done  with  them.  Brunner 
has  a  sister.  I  wonder  if  he  wouldn't  feel  like  cut- 
ting the  heart  out  of  any  man  who  treated  his  sis- 
ter the  way  he  treated  Amy.  What  I  want  to 
know  is,  why  doesn't  he  treat  the  other  fellow's 
sister  the  way  he  would  like  to  have  the  other 
fellow  treat  his  sister? 

"  Don't  people  think  of  the  consequences  ? 
After  a  while  there  won't  be  anything  left  but  con- 
sequences! Men  ought  to  suffer  results  for  their 
wickedness  and  their  selfish  misdeeds." 

There  was  a  long  pause.  Then  Beth  continued, 
"  When  Amy  heard  of  Brunner's  engagement  to 
his  present  wife,  she  wrote  her  a  letter.  '  I  know 


BETH  AND  JEAN  221 

it  is  folly  to  give  advice,'  she  wrote ; '  I'm  not  pre- 
suming to  advise  you,  but  there  are  some  things 
you  ought  to  know.  Unless  you  are  only  half  as 
wise  as  I  think  you  are,  you  will  hang  up  the  re- 
ceiver on  him,  and  let  it  stay  on  the  hook.  There 
is  too  much  at  stake.  You  will  regret  your  present 
course  with  every  drop  of  blood  in  your  heart.  I 
am  saying  these  things  to  you  because  some  one 
should.' 

"  But  the  woman  married  him !  How  hard 
women  are!  We  are  far  harder  on  each  other, 
far  more  suspicious,  far  more  unforgiving  than 
men  are ! " 

"  Perhaps  that  may  be  due  to  the  fact  that 
women  have  higher  ideals  than  men  have,  and  find 
it  harder  to  compromise  than  men,"  said  Jean. 

But  Beth  shook  her  head  After  a  moment,  she 
placed  the  Christmas  box  on  the  table  and  picked 
up  a  Bible.  "  This  was  Dad's  Bible,"  she  said. 
"  I  remember  we  were  making  a  comparison  of 
Homer  and  Isaiah  one  day.  Dad  said  he  didn't 
see  why  we  were  not  required  to  study  Hebrew  as 
well  as  Greek  literature.  '  Isaiah/  he  said,  '  is  as 
brilliant  as  Homer  and  better  morals.'  Did  you 
ever  see  Dad's  writing?"  she  asked,  giving  the 
Bible  to  Jean.  "  He  wrote  this  from  Whittier  on 
the  fly  leaf: 

"  '  We  search  the  world  for  truth ! — 
To  find  that  all  the  sages  said 
Is  in  the  Book  our  mothers  read.' 


222  VINDICATION  OF  BOBEET  CKEIGHTON 

"  Dad  said  it  calmed  him  to  read  the  Bible.  *  It 
doesn't  dabble  in  time,'  he  said,  *  it  brings  us  to  the 
place  where  the  soul  feels  secure.  I  like  to  get 
into  the  spirit  of  this  Book,'  he  used  to  say  to  me. 
He  marked  this  verse  in  the  sixth  chapter  of 
Micah: 

"  '  He  hath  shewed  thee,  O  man,  what  is  good; 
— to  do  justly,  and  to  love  mercy,  and  to  walk 
humbly  with  thy  God.' 

"It's  hard  to  be  fair-minded,  isn't  it?"  Beth 
said  as  she  finished  reading  the  verse,  and  turned 
over  the  leaves  of  the  Bible.  "  I  think  the  finest 
illustration  of  fair-mindedness  in  all  the  world  is 
in  this  Book,"  and  Beth  read  impressively  the 
story  of  the  men  who  brought  a  woman  to  Christ, 
and  accusing  her,  said,  "According  to  the  law  she 
should  be  stoned,"  and  of  how  He  listened  to  them 
and  then  said,  "  You  are  right ;  according  to  the 
law  and  your  testimony,  she  should  be  stoned. 
You  have  brought  her  here.  You  are  prosecuting 
the  case.  You  are  the  witnesses.  On  the  testi- 
mony submitted,  she  stands  convicted.  Now,  be 
your  own  executioners.  Let  the  man  among  you 
that  is  without  sin,  cast  the  first  stone." 

Beth  then  read  of  how  the  Master  stooped  down 
and  wrote  on  the  ground,  and  when  He  had  fin- 
ished and  looked  up,  every  one  of  the  men  who 
had  testified  against  the  woman  had  fled.  She 
read  the  verses  that  tell  how  He  turned  to  the 


BETH  AND  JEAN  223 

woman  and  asked  her  where  her  accusers  were. 
"  Hath  no  man  stoned  thee?  "  He  asked.  "  None, 
Master,"  she  replied.  "  Neither  do  I  condemn 
thee;  go  and  sin  no  more." 

As  Beth  closed  the  Book,  she  said,  "  I  tell  you, 
Jean,  that  is  the  finest  illustration  of  justice  in  the 
world.  Theologians  may  scrap  all  they  want  to 
about  the  divinity  of  Jesus.  I  am  for  Him!  I 
love  Him !  He  is  your  Friend  and  mine !  " 

Replacing  the  Book  on  the  table,  she  said,  "  It's 
a  long  time  since  that  happened.  After  two  thou- 
sand years,  we  aren't  within  a  million  ages  of  its 
spirit.  Christ  said,  '  Go  and  sin  no  more,'  and 
opened  a  door  of  hope.  We  say  *  Go '  and  lock 
her  out!" 

Jean  sighed,  as  Beth  concluded.  "  I  am  glad 
you  have  been  such  a  friend  to  Amy,"  she  said. 
"  I  can  see  how  she  could  trust  you,  knowing  that 
there  was  room  in  your  heart  for  forgiveness  and 
recovery." 

"  The  best  of  us  wouldn't  get  very  far  if  our 
friends  were  otherwise ! "  said  Beth.  "  When 
people  are  ambushed  into  wrong  doing,  that  is  one 
story;  but  when  a  man  like  Brunner  deliberately 
plans  the  wrecking  of  a  life,  and  then  tries  by  half 
the  truth  to  cover  his  wickedness,  that  is  another 
story.  That  sort  of  thing  isn't  new;  it  was  old  in 
Sodom  and  Gomorrah." 

As  Beth  concluded,  she  went  into  the  dining- 
room  and  began  to  set  the  table  for  the  evening 


224  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

meal.  There  were  the  white  cloth,  the  glass,  the 
china,  the  silver,  all  agleam  beneath  the  light  of 
the  table  lamp. 

Holding  a  gold-lined  goblet  in  her  hand  which 
she  had  taken  from  the  sideboard,  she  said,  "Down 
at  the  well,  hanging  on  a  chain  is  an  old  cup. 
There  are  holes  in  the  bottom  of  it,  and  the  iron 
in  the  water  has  eaten  half  of  it  away:  but  if  I 
wanted  a  drink  of  water  and  I  had  this  goblet  and 
that  cup,  and  if  the  inside  of  the  goblet  were  full 
of  dust,  I'd  take  the  old  tin  cup  with  the  water 
running  out  of  the  bottom  and  spattering  on  the 
rocks  and  over  my  feet.  I'd  take  the  tin  cup  be- 
cause it  is  clean.  When  I  think  of  that  man 
Brunner,  and  the  life  he  leads,  I'm  angry! " 

For  a  long  time,  Beth  and  Jean  sat  in  silence,  in 
the  gathering  twilight.  They  had  enjoyed  many 
such  talks  together,  wherein  they  were  accustomed 
to  speak  very  frankly  about  the  concerns  and  in- 
terests of  life. 

"Away  back  in  the  shadowy  corners  of  the  heart 
of  every  woman,"  said  Jean,  "  there  is  a  deep,  ear- 
nest longing  for  love  and  home.  Not  many  of  us 
admit  this,  even  to  our  friends.  Just  why,  I  do 
not  know.  We  go  through  the  years  pretending 
that  we  do  not  care,  but  all  the  while  our  hearts 
ache  at  the  sight  of  a  fireside.  As  the  longing 
grows,  so  also  caution  and  questioning  and  fear  in- 
crease. It  leaves  a  void  and  an  aching.  It  is 
weakness,  I  suppose,  to  speak  as  I  am  doing,  but 


BETH  AND  JEAN  225 

with  the  right  man  on  one  side  of  a  table  and  the 
right  woman  on  the  other  side  of  the  table,  you 
have  all  the  happiness  this  side  of  heaven!  I'm 
not  sure  that  heaven  itself  contains  anything  bet- 
ter." 

A  steady  hand  fell  on  Jean's  shoulder,  and  she 
looked  up  into  Duke's  face.  "  Ready  to  sing  ?  " 
he  asked  her.  "  Creighton  has  to  go  to  the  city, 
unexpectedly.  Beth  and  I  are  going  to  the  Inn 
with  you." 

"  Yes,"  said  Jean,  with  the  smile  she  could  al- 
ways command.  And  presently  the  three  left  for 
the  Inn  where  Jean  was  to  take  part  in  a  benefit 
concert. 


XVII 
TWILIGHT  AND  EVENING  BELL 

DURING  the  days  Quinn  spent  with  the 
monk  going  over  the  manuscripts,  he  was 
very   happy.     A   new   spirit   seemed   to 
possess  him.     A  new  power  had  come  into  his  life. 
He  thought  often  of  Creighton  and  his  work.     He 
thought  also  of  Mrs.   Morrison,   the  missionary 
teacher.     He  was  surprised  to  find  himself  mak- 
ing plans  to  join  her  and  build  the  children's  hos- 
pital she  needed! 

But  always  he  thought  of  Jean.  He  sincerely 
and  truly  loved  her.  He  had  known  many  women, 
but  Jean  was  the  one  he  loved.  Wordsworth's 
tribute  came  often  to  mind:  once  he  had  thought 
her  "  not  too  good  for  human  nature's  daily  food." 
But  now,  he  remembered  she  was  bright,  with 
something  of  an  angel's  light,  and  she  had  a  sensi- 
tive gift  for  sentiment  and  the  golden  quality  men 
call  charm.  He  knew  Jean  loved  him,  knew  she 
must  be  mourning  for  him  as  dead.  But  as  he 
wondered — hoped,  he  shared  his  hopes  and  his 
wonder  with  the  old  monk  who  listened  to  his 
story,  listened  without  comment,  like  a  man  en- 
thralled ! 

226 


TWILIGHT  AND  EVENING  BELL       227 

As  he  sat,  according  to  his  habit,  one  afternoon, 
considering  the  past,  and  waiting  for  the  monk  to 
join  him,  one  of  the  brothers  approached  him  and, 
in  haste  and  deep  concern,  said: 

"  I  beseech  you,  come  with  me,"  and  without 
waiting  for  a  reply,  started  toward  the  monastery. 

Quinn  arose  and  followed  the  brother,  who  hur- 
ried down  the  path  and  through  the  door. 

"  Your  friend  has  come,"  the  brother  remarked 
to  the  monk,  as  Quinn  drew  near  the  cot  on  which 
his  friend  was  lying. 

The  monk  turned  his  head,  ever  so  little,  and 
seeing  Quinn,  his  face  brightened. 

Quinn  looked  about  the  quiet  room;  then  he  set 
about  making  it  as  comfortable  as  possible.  He 
saw  at  once  he  was  in  the  presence  of  a  stricken 
man.  While  he  was  thus  engaged,  the  door  opened 
and  a  company  of  men  of  the  order  entered  the 
room  and  gathered  about  the  cot.  They  waited 
upon  their  lay  brother  with  the  utmost  solicitude. 
In  a  devout,  reverent  manner,  they  administered 
the  last  rites. 

Quinn  waited,  wondering  what  would  follow. 

After  the  prayers,  in  which  the  monks  united, 
the  prior  arose,  withdrawing  from  the  room;  the 
others  followed,  and  Quinn  found  himself  again 
alone  with  his  friend. 

As  he  waited,  Quinn  tried  to  realize  all  it  must 
have  meant  to  the  man  before  him  to  spend  his  life 
in  the  midst  of  such  surroundings.  He  shuddered 


228  VINDICATION  OF  KOBEKT  CEEIGHTON 

at  the  thought  of  all  the  plodding  years !  Sleeping 
cold,  at  night,  in  a  chilly  cell!  Arising  at  early 
morning  for  chapel,  while  it  was  dark!  And, 
cold,  to  sit  and  listen  to  the  prior  discoursing  on 
the  virtue  of  a  humble  spirit !  Again  Ouinn  shud- 
dered as  he  thought.  He  remembered  how,  not  a 
week  before,  he  had  seen  the  monk  sitting  in  the 
chapel  in  contemplation;  his  arms  folded  in  his 
sleeves,  his  chin  resting  on  his  breast,  his  face  half 
hidden  in  his  cowl.  There  was  a  brooding  light  in 
his  eyes,  and  when  the  service  was  over,  he  went 
alone  down  the  aisle  and  knelt  at  the  steps  of  the 
altar. 

"  I  thought  I  was  going,"  the  monk  said,  recall- 
ing Ouinn  to  the  present,  and,  opening  his  eyes, 
"  But  I  am  glad  you  are  here,"  he  said.  "  I  have 
come  back,  but  not  for  long.  God  was  good,  in 
His  mercy,  to  send  you  to  me.  But  there  is  still  a 
secret  buried  in  my  heart.  Once,  I  thought  I 
might  share  it  with  you,  but  you  will  find  it  in  the 
manuscripts.  Every  word  was  written  in  the  pres- 
ence of  one  who  shares  my  secret — in  the  glory  of 
an  unbroken  fellowship !  Every  line  breathes  of  a 
love  and  comfort — no  language  could  express !  " 

The  monk  paused  for  breath. 

"  Here  is  no  dwelling  place,"  he  continued,  "  but 
our  Master  has  given  us  a  promise  of  mansions  of 
everlasting  bliss.  My  heart  aches  for  them !  " 

Quinn  felt  the  power  of  the  situation. 

"  You  see,  my  son,  we  have  nothing  to  say  about 


TWILIGHT  AND  EVENING  BELL       229 

our  coming,  and  little  enough  to  say  about  going 
out  of  life.  The  beginning  and  the  end  of  it  are  in 
other  hands.  We  are  creatures  of  fixed  order; 
but  between  fixed  points,  we  live  in  a  world  of 
freedom,  of  large  liberty,  among  great  issues, 
choosing,  accepting,  rejecting  in  life  at  will. 

"  Had  we  foreseen  our  coming  into  life,  we 
might  have  said,  '  We  do  not  know  the  country  we 
must  journey  through,'  and  feared  to  make  the 
adventure.  But  when  we  awoke  to  living,  we 
found  a  father's  strength,  a  mother's  love,  home, 
friends,  at  least  a  world  so  well  adapted  to  meet 
our  needs  that  we  loved  it.  Where  is  the  man  of 
us  ready  and  eager  to  die?  But  who  would  place 
his  choice  above  the  Father's — who  swings  the 
night  seasons  at  His  bidding,  and  gives  us  leave  to 
sleep  when  He  makes  the  night?  The  birds  have 
nests,  God  willing,  and  a  heaven  to  fly  in,  and 
when  their  flight  is  over,  leave  to  stay.  We  are  of 
greater  value  than  they,  Christ  told  us.  What 
man  would  not  anticipate  the  place  prepared  for 
him! 

"  Often,  my  son,  the  'beloved  John  seemed  work- 
ing with  me,  and  when  I  toiled,  I  seemed  to  see 
him  leaning  over  a  parchment,  beside  me.  With 
trembling  finger,  he  wrote  his  story,  his  face  rapt, 
and  persuasive ;  his  hair  like  almond  blossoms ;  his 
eyes  like  somber  stars;  always  his  lips  were  smil- 
ing; sometimes  he  lifted  his  hands  to  shade  his 
eyes,  and  then  with  vision  clarified,  he  looked  back 


230  VUTOICATION  OF  EGBERT  CEEIGHTON 

through  the  years  to  the  time  he  was  a  fisherman, 
and  to  the  day  on  which  he  heard  the  Master's 
voice.  Often  he  seemed  still  listening  to  the  Mas- 
ter's words,  as  once  he  hearkened  at  the  cross,  re- 
ceiving the  commission  to  '  go  into  all  the  world.' 
Then  I  have  thought  I  could  hear  him  say,  as  he 
finished  the  parchment,  *  It  is  a  blessed  story ;  but  I 
can't  write  it  all  down.  Jesus  did  many  things  not 
written  here,  but  these  I  have  chosen  to  write  that 
men  might  know  that  Jesus  is  the  Christ,  and  so 
believing,  might  have  life  through  faith ! ' 

"  We  learn  much  from  books,  my  son,"  the 
monk  continued,  after  a  pause,  "  but  there  are  les- 
sons which  no  book  can  teach  us,  things  which 
every  man  must  find  out  for  himself.  There  is  a 
mingled  joy  and  pain  in  finding  one's  self,  and  the 
experience  it  brings  is  wonderful  because  it  is  our 
own.  It  is  well  to  compare  our  own  lives  with  the 
lives  of  other  men.  They  are  our  teachers,  and 
often  put  into  words  our  own  experiences  far  bet- 
ter than  we  could  have  done  it  for  ourselves." 

There  was  a  long  silence ;  the  monk  had  spoken 
with  effort,  and  with  many  intermissions;  he  now 
continued:  "In  my  younger  days,  life  was  hard 
with  me,  as  I  have  already  told  you.  I  found 
more  misery  than  joy.  Honours?  The  world 
could  give  me  none.  Emptiness  and  despair — 
these  were  mine.  I  sickened  in  my  heart.  I  knew 
not  what  to  think,  nor  what  to  do,  and  thus  a  subtle 
combination  of  strength  and  weakness  held  me, 


TWILIGHT  AND  EVENING  BELL       231 

when  I  staggered  to  this  place.  My  studies 
brought  me  much  comfort.  But  above  all  else,  I 
learned  that  we  can  never  gain  the  light  by  analyz- 
ing the  qualities  of  darkness.  The  only  way  to 
know  His  secret  is  to  yield  ourselves  to  Him.  I 
wanted  the  knowledge  of  a  God  to  do  the  work  of 
a  man.  I  wanted  to  know  all  things  before  I  acted 
on  any  one!  I  could  not  think  about  any  one 
thing  without  thinking  about  them  all,  and  when 
I  was  about  to  act,  some  new  thought  held  me 
back. 

"  Thus,  I  gave  over  to  the  mind  what  was  meant 
for  the  will.  I  was  a  long  time  learning  this,  my 
son.  It  took  me  a  long  time  to  see  that  we  are 
made  to  grapple.  Without  will  power,  the  finest 
intellectual  gifts  avail  us  very  little.  We  must 
think,  but  we  must  also  act.  Thinking  is  only 
perilous  when  it  is  severed  from  action.  Not  to 
decide  is  worse  than  not  to  think.  This  life  is 
only  a  beginning,  but  we  must  begin,  and  the 
knowledge  we  have  that  our  lives  are  too  vast  to 
be  exhausted  by  earth's  brief  action  is  the  strong- 
est witness  to  the  reality  of  spiritual  laws  and 
forces,  and  our  need  of  contact  with  them.  When 
I  saw  this,  I  saw  the  way  clear.  It  had  never  oc- 
curred to  me  that  I  was  to  give,  to  serve,  to  do. 

"  *  Loss  of  self  crowns,'  a  voice  whispered  to 
me,  and  I  threw  my  life  into  the  great  ocean  of 
God's  eternal  purpose  and  lost  it,  only  to  find  it 
again,  pure,  bright,  bounteous.  My  son,  remem- 


232  VINDICATION  OF  BOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

berthis!  Remember  it!  Life  is  the  great  begin- 
ning. It  is  a  bitter  draught  for  proud  hearts,  but 
He  whose  training  at  serving  cost  Him  His  life, 
told  us  that  '  he  that  saveth  his  life  shall  lose  it, 
and  he  that  loseth  his  life  shall  find  it.' ' 

The  monk  spoke  heavily,  brokenly,  but  with  sol- 
emn emphasis.  His  words  flashed  upon  Quinn's 
inner  being  the  light  of  a  faith  that  looks  through 
death,  and  as  he  bent  over  the  monk  in  an  effort  to 
relieve  him,  unconsciously  he  said  a  prayer. 

"  I  shall  not  have  long  to  be  with  you  here,  my 
son,"  the  monk  continued.  "  The  oil  of  life  has 
burned  low,  and  the  earth  light  will  soon  go  out. 
Last  night,  my  heart  seemed  almost  to  deny  me 
service;  it  seemed  to  me  it  stopped.  I  seemed  to 
myself  a  disembodied  soul.  Thus  I  lay,  until  with 
the  coming  of  the  dawn,  my  brothers  noted  that  I 
was  not  at  prayers.  One  more  such  ebb  of  the 
tide  will  carry  me  away." 

Quinn  saw  the  end  was  near. 

But  the  monk  seemed  not  to  think  of  death. 
There  are  souls  so  kingly,  that  we  feel  that  death 
is  incapable  to  touch  them.  When  he  comes,  he 
comes  as  a  servant  to  remove  the  hindrances,  and 
break  the  narrow  limits  of  time.  And  when  they 
go,  they  go  with  such  a  wealth  of  being  that  those 
who  watch  their  going  are  made  brave  with  a  de- 
sire to  accompany  them. 

What  a  manifest  crown  of  glory  rested  upon  the 
head  of  the  monk!  What  power  of  giving  was 


TWILIGHT  AND  EVENING  BELL       233 

there!  How  wide  to  all  that  pointed  Godward 
was  the  gloomy  cell!  What  kingly  relationships! 
What  spiritual  power !  What  beauty,  moderation, 
submission  and  communion!  How  clear  and 
peaceful  and  how  undisturbed! 

Above  them,  the  bell  tower  of  the  monastery  re- 
flected the  departed  glory  of  the  Roman  world  and 
held  the  atmosphere  of  days  gone  by.  Behind 
them,  the  grim  walls  and  the  pine  trees  shaded  the 
paths,  where  in  meditation,  the  monk  had  so  often 
walked  in  deep  reflection.  Around  them,  the  sea 
was  lapping  on  the  sands,  a  swelling  tide  of  music, 
holding  a  meaning  deeper  than  itself. 

What  a  shrine  was  this  old  place  for  weary  pil- 
grims, whose  lives,  like  the  monk's,  were  broken 
by  rocks  of  rugged  circumstances!  How  many 
men  had  come  here,  sore  beleaguered,  seeking  and 
finding  peace  and  spiritual  rest ! 

But  now  the  storm  was  over — the  thunders  have 
ceased — the  lightnings  have  vanished.  The  eclipse 
of  fear  and  doubt  and  pain  is  over.  The  wind 
that  had  been  roaring  has  died  down.  The  sea 
that  had  been  raging  sings  a  peaceful  song.  The 
outer  world  that  had  bulked  so  largely  dulls  away 
and  fades  from  sight.  The  beams  of  the  setting 
sun  strike  gently  through  the  little  iron-barred 
windows  and  quiver  on  the  wall  like  gold  on  water. 

It  was  the  hour  of  twilight — the  time  for  the 
evening  bell. 

For  a  long  time  the  monk  was  silent,  then  he 


234  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

kissed  the  crucifix,  and  folding  his  hands  close 
over  it,  he  held  it  to  his  heart.  Ouinn  noted  a 
movement  of  the  lips  and,  leaning  forward,  heard 
the  monk  engage  in  prayer: 

"  Make  his  sins  easier  to  bear  through  Thy  for- 
giveness." 

"  Make  his  woes  to  draw  near  to  an  end." 

"  Lead  him  to  his  heart's  desire." 

"  Bring  them  together  in  deep,  high,  holy  love 
as  man  and  woman  on  earth,  as  saints  in  heaven." 

"  Comfort " — the  voice  sank  into  a  very  faint 
whisper. 

"  Comfort — all — Thy "  the  words  were  no 

longer  audible. 

As  Quinn  sat  wrapped  in  reverent  meditation, 
one  of  the  brothers  came  into  the  room  and  rested 
his  hand  on  his  shoulder.  Through  the  tears  that 
blinded  him,  Ouinn  looked  upon  the  countenance 
of  his  friend  and  noted  the  peaceful  smile  around 
the  lips. 

Then  he  heard  the  monks'  chorus  chanting  the 
Sanctus  from  the  mass  of  St.  Cecelia: 

"  Sanctus,  Sanctus,  Dominus, 

Sanctus  Deus  Sabaoth. 

Hosanna!  Hosanna! 

In  Excelsis." 

The  little  lamp  on  the  table  was  burning  very 
low.  There  was  no  sound  save  the  murmur  of 
the  evening  breezes  among  the  turrets  of  the 
monastery.  All  was  still. 


XVIII 

MISSION  INN 

THE  California  southland  has  been  called 
"  the  land  of  heart's  desire,"  not  only  be- 
cause of  its  blue  skies  and  perfume-laden 
air,  but  because  of  the  spirit  of  romance  to  which 
the  old  Franciscans  gave  expression  in  a  series  of 
missions  which  they  built  at  day-long  intervals, 
along  the  sunset  trail.  The  dominant  characteris- 
tics of  the  missions — the  tile  roof,  the  cloistered 
walk,  the  stately  arch — have  been  incorporated  in 
many  buildings  here.  Such  an  one  is  the  Mission 
Inn. 

The  enclosure  that  forms  the  entrance  to  the 
Inn  is  shaded  with  trees.  Between  the  walks  and 
lawns  are  tropical  plants.  Orange  trees,  bearing 
at  once  their  fruit  and  their  fragrant  blossoms, 
here  and  there,  make  golden  the  grounds.  Every- 
thing in  the  enclosure  suggests  some  beauty  and 
restfulness.  The  gray  walls  of  the  Inn  are  cov- 
ered with  trellises,  and  from  under  these,  the  win- 
dows look  out  with  an  air  of  gentle  dignity. 

Once  inside,  the  visitor  might  think  himself  in 
some  baronial  hall.  There  are  choir  stalls  to  the 
right  and  at  the  back,  old  chairs  in  the  center, 

235 


236  VINDICATION  OF  ROBERT  CREIGHTON 

while  banners  of  crimson  brocade  and  yellow  gold 
float  from  the  balustrades.  All  this  combines  to 
throw  over  one  an  atmosphere  of  far-away  times. 
Back  of  the  stairs  that  extend  across  the  front  of 
the  hall  and  to  the  right  is  a  great  organ,  and  be- 
yond, at  the  end  of  the  hall,  three  radiant  windows 
tell  the  story  of  St.  Cecelia. 

Every  afternoon  and  evening  the  organ  is 
played,  and  on  special  occasions,  musicians  come 
from  far  and  near  and  give  an  evening  of  such 
music  as  only  great  artists  can  give. 

The  audience  had  gathered  in  the  lobby  and 
were  slipping  into  the  chairs  and  pews  in  the  music 
room.  Jean  was  to  sing.  She  had  received  many 
overtures  from  managers,  but  she  had  chosen  to 
sing  to  the  men  in  Creighton's  camp;  and  as  the 
people  assembled,  she  was  the  topic  of  conversa- 
tion. 

"  Why  doesn't  she  do  the  real  thing?  "  "  Why 
does  a  woman  with  her  voice  waste  her  time  with 
that  bunch  of  dirt  heavers  up  in  the  mountains  ?  " 
These  were  some  of  the  questions  and  comments 
that  Beth  and  Duke  overheard  as  they  sat  in  a 
dimly  lighted  corner  in  the  rear  of  the  room. 

"  She's  all  right,"  Duke  whispered  to  Beth  after 
he  heard  the  first  note  of  Jean's  opening  song. 
"  She  has  herself  in  hand.  And  when  she's  right 

— well,  she's  right "  and  the  applause  of  the 

audience  attested  Duke's  judgment. 

After  Jean  had   concluded  her  program,   she 


MISSION  INK  237 

walked  along  the  cloister  way,  through  the  lobby, 
and  turning  to  the  left,  sauntered  along  a  walk 
that  led  to  a  seat  near  the  St.  Francis  fountain. 
As  she  sat  in  the  retreating  nook,  the  peace  fulness 
of  the  scene  fell  upon  her  spirit  like  a  benediction. 
The  moon  was  shimmerkig  through  the  trees;  the 
fountain  was  murmuring  its  way  into  the  basin 
where  lilies  were  blossoming;  and  in  the  water, 
rolling  over  the  rocks,  Jean  heard  the  far-away 
song  of  the  sea.  She  reviewed  again  the  chapter 
of  her  life  that  was  steeped  in  the  tender  glow  of  a 
loving  memory.  Through  the  open  window  of 
her  soul,  thoughts  came  and  departed.  Upon  the 
altar  of  her  hidden  life,  the  fire  of  a  joyful  sorrow, 
that  at  once  warmed  and  burned,  was  glowing. 
Then  she  returned  to  the  present  only  to  find  that 
her  reverie  left  her  in  bewilderment.  At  length 
through  her  heart  seemed  to  pass  a  shadowed 
eagerness  like  the  dying,  yet  living,  pulse  of  a 
great  hope,  and  a  dream,  at  once  a  joy  and  a  sor- 
row, seemed  to  take  shape.  Never  had  she  sung 
better  than  she  had  that  evening.  She  needed  no 
friends  to  tell  her  so.  There  was  a  mingling  of 
melody  and  yearning,  of  joy  and  pathos,  always  in 
her  voice — always  she  carried  herself  and  her  au- 
dience to  Heaven's  gate  with  the  magic  of  her  art. 
And  while  she  sang,  she  could  be  cheerful,  inspir- 
ing and  triumphant.  But  once  alone,  now  as  al- 
ways, the  reaction  came,  and  she  lost  herself  as 
always,  brooding  on  the  mystery  of  her  trou- 


238  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

ble,  a  mystery  that  threatened  to  darken  her 
life. 

And,  as  was  often  the  case,  it  was  the  thought 
of  Creighton  that  gave  her  back  to  comfort  in  her- 
self!  Only  a  few  hours  ago  Creighton  had  told 
her  good-bye.  He  had  wished  her  success  in  her 
concert,  and  said  he  was  sorry  he  found  it  impos- 
sible to  be  present.  He  was  always  kind,  no  mat- 
ter how  busy !  Always  sympathetic !  And  he  had 
a  way,  some  way,  always  to  bring  order  out  of 
even  the  most  unusual  situations.  "  We  all  need 
faith  and  charity — more  of  it  in  our  hearts,"  he 
had  told  her  once.  "  Who  of  us  lives  by  success 
alone?  Life  is  achievement  through  struggle." 
And  then  he  had  told  her  of  a  man  he  once  knew 
who  declared  that  Here  was  Hereafter.  He  knew 
it,  for  he  walked  in  spiritual  hell !  He  said  he  was 
burnt  off  to  the  knees.  "And  I  remember  at  that 
time,"  Creighton  had  concluded,  "  that  I  realized 
I  was  with  him,  with  this  difference — I  was  in  to 
the  hips — but  I  was  standing,  and  fighting,  on  my 
feet." 

Quieted  by  Creighton's  influence  and  realizing 
at  last  that  she  needed  sleep,  Jean  started  for  her 
room  and  found  Duke  looking  for  her. 

"  Beth  has  gone  up  to  bed,"  he  told  her.  "Are 
you  going,  too  ?  " 

Jean  told  him  she  was,  and  said  good-night. 

For  a  long  time  Duke  sauntered  about  the  lobby. 
Several  times  he  looked  over  the  register,  for  lack 


MISSION  INN  239 

of  something  better  to  do.  It  was  midnight  when 
he  went  to  bed. 

He  was  sleeping  fitfully,  when  he  was  startled 
into  sudden  wakefulness  by  the  ring  of  the  tele- 
phone. 

"  Hello !  "  said  the  clerk.  "  Sorry  to  wake  you. 
Long  distance ! " 

Duke  waited. 

Presently  a  voice  exclaimed,  "  This  you,  Duke  ? 
Creighton  speaking.  The  boat  was  late — Quinn 
just  landed.  No  use  coming  to  the  Inn.  Bring 
the  girls  to  the  Tavern  by  sun-up.  I'll  meet  you 
there." 

That  was  all !  Before  Duke  had  time  to  speak, 
Creighton  had  hung  up  the  receiver. 

Duke  looked  at  his  watch,  rubbing  his  eyes. 
Two  o'clock !  He  paused  a  moment  as  if  debating 
— then  suddenly  taking  up  the  telephone  receiver 
and  calling  the  room  clerk,  he  said,  "  Give  me  583 
— Miss  Johnson's  room." 

When  the  bell  rang,  both  Beth  and  Jean  started. 
Neither  had  slept  soundly.  As  Beth  answered  the 
call,  Jean  listened. 

"  Sorry  to  get  you  out,  Beth,"  came  Duke's 
voice  over  the  telephone.  "  Just  had  word  from 
Creighton.  Quinn  came  on  the  big  liner.  She 
was  late.  Creighton  wants  us  to  meet  him  at 
sun-up.  Tell  Jean.  Get  ready  to  start  at  once. 
I'll  get  the  machine  out,  and  wait  for  you  in  the 
lobby." 


240  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CREIGHTON 

"Oh,  Jean,  Jean!"  Beth  exclaimed,  shivering 
and  trembling  in  excitement. 

"What's  the  matter?"  Jean  asked.  "Duke 
hurt?" 

"  No ! "  answered  Beth,  laughing  and  crying. 
"No!  No!  It's  Quinn!  He's  here!  He's  com- 
ing! He's  home!  Get  up — dress!  We  leave  at 
once.  Duke  is  waiting.  Creighton  and  Quinn 
are  coming — the  boat  was  late — he  was  coming  to 
hear  you  sing.  Duke  is  waiting,  I  tell  you! 
Dress!  Dress!  We  are  to  meet  Creighton  and 
Quinn  at  sunrise !  " 

Jean  listened  as  one  dazed. 

"  Quinn  is  on  the  way  with  Creighton !  Don't 
you  understand,  dear  ?  He's  coming !  He's  alive ! 
Your  Quinn's  alive — and  near !  " 

Beth  was  working  as  fast  as  she  was  talking, 
and  having  dressed  herself,  she  proceeded  to  help 
Jean,  who,  unable  to  speak,  seemed  as  one  crushed 
with  silence. 

Less  than  a  hundred  miles  away,  Quinn  eyed 
Creighton  as  he  came  out  of  the  telephone  booth. 

"  Man,  you  look  ten  years  younger,"  he  said,  as 
they  walked  away  together  to  enter  the  automo- 
bile. Without  making  a  reply,  Creighton  drove 
out  of  the  congested  quarter,  and  soon  they  were 
speeding  away  from  the  harbour,  through  the  city, 
and  out  among  the  hills. 

Between  jumps  and  turns,  Quinn  told  Creighton 
about  the  wreck,  the  lost  letter,  his  experience  on 


MISSION  INN  241 

Patmos,  and  with  the  monastery  man.  There  had 
been  no  way  to  cable  or  get  a  letter  across ;  Quinn 
had  come  on  the  boat  that  would  have  carried  the 
letter. 

"  Mourned  me  for  dead,  you  say !  "  Quinn  con- 
cluded. "  Well,  I've  been  buried  all  right,  but  I'm 
here,  as  you  see,  and  you're  here.  Where  is 
Jean?" 

But  without  answering,  Creighton  kept  the  car 
to  the  road.  With  a  steady  hum,  they  swept 
around  curve  after  curve,  until  on  the  straighter 
portions  of  the  road,  the  speedometer  indicated 
forty-five,  fifty,  fifty-five,  fifty-seven,  then  wa- 
vered a  moment,  only  to  respond  to  the  call  of  the 
quivering  machine  that  seemed  to  cling  more 
closely  to  the  road  as  the  hum  of  the  open  cut-out 
swelled  into  a  resonant  blare.  Creighton  clung  to 
the  wheel.  The  road  was  a  good  one.  There  was 
none  better  anywhere  in  the  world.  Orange 
groves,  packing  houses,  white  ranch  houses  hidden 
in  gardens  were  glimpsed  in  the  dark,  flashed  and 
were  gone  as  the  wind  whistled  about  the  men  and 
died  away  in  their  wake.  On  through  the  canyon 
they  shot,  then  out  into  the  open  again,  over 
stretches  of  sand  that  had  blown  across  the  road, 
and  past  vineyards,  with  an  occasional  machine 
veering  wildly  to  escape  them. 

Just  as  the  gray  streaks  in  the  eastern  sky 
heralded  the  coming  of  the  morning,  they  reached 
the  Tavern. 


242  VINDICATION  OF  EGBERT  CREIGHTON 

"  I  told  Duke  to  meet  us  here  at  sun-up," 
Creighton  said,  getting  out  of  the  machine,  "  and 
he's  generally  on  time." 

And  then  as  Quinn  looked  down  the  road,  he 
saw  an  automobile  round  the  bend. 

With  a  shout,  he  sprang  forward  to  meet  it; 
before  it  stopped,  he  was  on  the  running  board, 
and  in  his  arms,  Jean  was  lifted  down,  and  as  he 
held  her  close  to  his  heart  and  looked  into  her  eyes 
of  loving  wonder,  he  saw  her  awake  to  the  joyous 
realization  that  her  prayers  had  been  answered. 
He  tried  to  speak,  but  he  smiled  instead.  Who 
could  speak,  he  thought  to  himself,  at  a  time  like 
this  when  he  read  in  Jean's  joyous  loveliness  how 
happy  she  was. 

Then  the  light  of  the  morning  streamed  over 
them.  In  a  near-by  orange  tree,  a  mocking  bird 
was  singing.  It  was  a  new  world — fresh  from 
the  hand  of  God.  Then  suddenly  the  four  seemed 
anointed  with  the  gift  of  tongues.  They  were 
talking — each  in  turn — all  at  once — explaining, 
expostulating,  putting  fragments  together  to  make 
a  connected  story. 

Presently  they  thought  of  Creighton,  but  when 
they  looked  around  for  him,  he  .was  not  to  be  seen. 
The  automobile  in  which  he  had  brought  Quinn 
had  also  disappeared.  On  entering  the  Tavern, 
they  learned  from  the  landlord  that  Creighton  had 
left  for  the  camp. 

Creighton   found   himself   driving  at   topmost 


MISSION  INN  243 

speed,  as  he  headed  his  car  toward  the  camp. 
Then  it  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that  he  was  out 
of  sight  of  the  Tavern,  and  he  slowed  down.  He 
thought  of  the  mad  race  he  had  made  to  reach 
the  place  at  sun-up.  He  had  wanted  to  bring 
Quinn  and  Jean  together  after  their  long  separa- 
tion, and  he  had  thought  how  he  would  share  their 
happiness.  Then  he  suddenly  felt  as  an  outsider. 
In  Jean's  happiest  hour,  and  Quinn' s,  it  dawned 
upon  him  that  he  was  not  needed,  that  hereafter 
she  would  turn  to  Quinn,  not  to  him.  He  felt 
bereft. 

As  thus  he  travelled  and  pondered,  he  found 
himself  turning  over  in  his  mind  the  story  of 
Pheidippides  who,  ages  ago,  left  pasture  and  flock 
and  ran  to  Sparta  for  aid,  in  the  day  when  Persia 
had  come  to  invade  and  conquer  Athens.  Through 
the  stubble,  over  the  hills,  down  the  dales,  between 
city  and  city,  he  raced  like  fire,  and  breaking  into 
the  council  of  Sparta,  exclaimed,  "  Persia  has 
come,  demanding  tribute !  Stretch  forth  the  hand 
and  help ! "  But  Sparta  deliberated.  There  was 
no  response.  He  saw  faces  leer  in  mistrust,  and 
eyes  glitter  in  envy !  "  Athens  is  threatened !  "  he 
shouted  again.  "  The  issue  is  mighty !  Persia  has 
come !  Will  Sparta  befriend  ?  " 

Then  as  he  saw  that  there  would  be  no  re- 
sponse to  his  appeal,  a  blaze  ran  through  his  blood, 
and  back  over  hills  and  plains  he  went — heavy- 
hearted.  In  the  cool  of  a  cleft,  he  saw  a  man  with 


244  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

hoofs  and  horns,  the  great  god,  Pan.  "  Why  do 
you  weep,  Pheidippides  ?  Why  are  you  so  sorrow- 
ful? When  the  hour  of  battle  comes,  I  shall  be 
present.  Tell  Athens,  Persia  will  be  cast  into  the 
sea."  And  when  Pheidippides  asked,  "  How  may 
I  know  ? "  Pan  answered,  "  Let  this  be  the 
pledge,"  and  handed  him  a  sprig  of  fragrant  fen- 
nel. And  when  the  day  came  in  which  the  Per- 
sians sailed  up  to  Marathon,  and  all  Athens  went 
forth  to  do  battle,  Pheidippides  shouted, 
"  Wherever  this  fennel  may  grow,  I  shall  fight 
with  the  foremost."  And  as  they  reached  the  sea 
— lo,  a  miracle!  A  mighty  shout  arose,  for  they 
saw  all  the  sandy  field  green  with  fennel — Persia 
was  overwhelmed — Athens  saved ! 

And  when  the  Athenians  cried,  "  What  honours 
are  yours!"  Pheidippides  answered,  lifting  his 
eyes  from  the  ground,  "  I  shall  marry  a  maid  I 
know  keeps  faith,  then  go  to  my  house,  and  when 
my  children  stand  about  my  knee,  I  will  recount 
how  God  was  kind.  But  first,  let  me  run  one  more 
race— on  to  Acropolis  and  say — 'Athens  is  saved.'" 
And  he  flung  down  his  shield  and  ran — a  race  no 
man  has  ever  made  since — from  the  fennel  fields 
to  Athens.  "  Rejoice !  We  conquer !  "  he  cried. 
"Athens  is  saved !  "  and  as  he  shouted  the  message 
of  deliverance,  his  heart  broke — he  died,  happy 
forever. 

Creighton  pondered  the  story.  Since  the  days 
of  Pheidippides,  men  have  run  the  Marathon.  To 


MISSION  INN  245 

Creighton,  it  seemed  as  if  his  life  was  a  dreary 
coming  down — an  enduring — he  had  no  proud  tid- 
ings to  tell — no  glorious  ending.  Again  he  saw 
Jean  and  the  man  she  loved,  the  morning  light 
breaking  about  them,  and  here  he  was — by  force 
of  circumstances — driven  away  from  their  happi- 
ness. Once  he  turned  to  look  back,  and  as  the  sun- 
light fell  across  his  countenance,  a  passer-by  saw 
his  face  and  wondered  at  it.  It  was  colourless, 
yet  his  eyes  were  radiant  with  a  hidden  glory. 


XIX 
THE  RANGER'S  CABIN 

ALONG  with  Jean,  Beth  and  Duke,  Quinn 
was  back  again  among  the  familiar  scenes 
of  his  boyhood,  at  home  once  more  in  his 
beloved  mountains,  sauntering  again  along  the 
trails  he  had  traversed  so  many  times  in  the  clays 
of  his  youth. 

Soon  after  his  arrival,  it  was  announced  that  the 
film  was  released  that  depicted  the  work  of  the 
great  engineering  project,  and  that  it  was  going  to 
be  thrown  upon  the  screen  that  evening. 

After  supper,  in  the  gathering  darkness,  the  men 
came  streaming  into  the  movie  room  of  the  hut  to 
see  the  pictures,  and  as  the  reel  unwound,  showing 
every  department  of  the  work — the  dam  with  its 
wonderful  spillways,  the  check  dams  far  up  in  the 
mountains,  the  tunnel  work,  the  lateral  ditches,  the 
camp  equipment,  the  men  at  work,  and  the  back- 
ground of  mountain  scenery — there  was  applause 
and  evident  satisfaction. 

When  the  different  groups  of  men  were  pre- 
sented to  view,  each  in  turn  cheered  the  others. 
Sam  and  his  tunnel  gang  were  lustily  applauded. 
Swen  and  Duke  were  loudly  cheered.  But  the  cli- 

246 


THE  EANGEE'S  CABIN  247 

max  of  it  all  came  when  Creighton,  clad  in  khaki 
suit,  holding  his  sombrero  in  his  hand,  bowed 
graciously  to  the  audience  from  the  screen,  and 
waved  to  the  men  as  if  to  give  them  credit  for  the 
achievement.  Most  assuredly,  Quinn  thought,  he 
did  not  look  as  if,  by  any  possibility,  the  spectre 
of  his  prison  life  could  rise  and  throw  him  down, 
still 

But  it  was  a  great  occasion!  It  meant  more 
than  a  local  triumph  in  engineering  skill.  It  meant 
a  lesson  to  the  world,  for  the  film  was  to  be  shown 
throughout  the  country. 

After  the  men  had  dispersed,  Quinn  and  Jean 
walked  along  the  trail  to  Inspiration  Point.  Here 
they  stood,  looking  down  upon  the  velvet  black- 
ness in  the  valley.  Lights  from  the  cities  sparkled 
in  the  gloom.  Above  them,  the  stars  were  shining. 
So  absorbed  were  they  that,  before  they  were 
aware  of  it,  the  stars  faded  from  the  sky,  the 
lights  below  dimmed,  and  a  black  storm  drew  its 
curtain  over  the  world. 

In  the  distance,  the  clouds  had  been  gathering. 
Away  in  the  heights  was  heard  the  challenge  of 
their  approach,  and  before  a  man  could  think,  the 
wind  blew,  the  thunder  crashed,  the  lightning 
gleamed,  the  rain  beat  down,  and  the  storm  was 
upon  them.  Involuntarily,  Quinn  rummaged  in 
his  pocket  for  a  flashlight,  but  he  knew  in  a  mo- 
ment it  was  not  there.  Inwardly,  he  protested. 
"  Will  the  world  ever  keep  right  ?  "  he  said  to  him- 


248  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

self,  and  then  in  the  darkness,  he  fancied  he  saw 
Jean's  cheek,  delicate  as  a  rose,  and  he  was  glad 
— glad  with  the  joy  of  living. 

Still,  Quinn  knew  what  these  storms  meant. 
They  meant  cloudbursts  in  the  mountains  and 
floods  in  the  valley,  and  he  knew  that  before  long 
the  mountain  streams,  wild  and  turbulent,  would 
be  carrying  underbrush,  wood,  and  trees  headlong 
down  the  mountainside.  And  as  the  storm  came 
charging  through  the  skies,  flinging  defiance  into 
the  heights,  and  evoking  the  spirits  of  the  hills, 
Quinn  drew  Jean  to  him  and  kissed  her  cool  wet 
face. 

Quinn  knew  that  they  were  not  far  from  the 
cabin  of  one  of  the  mountain  rangers.  "  If  we  can 
reach  it,"  he  said,  "  we  can  find  shelter."  As  the 
lightnings  gleamed,  lighting  up  the  mountainside, 
Quinn  noted  where  the  path  to  the  cabin  left  the 
trail.  "If  we  can  find  the  way  down  the  slope  to 
the  bridge  that  crosses  the  ravine,  we  will  be  all 
right,"  he  said,  as  they  groped  their  way  through 
the  darkness.  Now  the  lightning  blinded  them, 
then  the  gloom  enveloped  them,  and  all  the  while 
the  rain  fell  in  torrents  upon  them. 

To  keep  to  the  main  trail  was  not  so  difficult, 
but  having  left  it,  they  found  themselves  skidding 
down  the  steep,  narrow  path  as  the  wet  earth  gave 
way  beneath  their  feet,  and  a  flood  of  water  cut 
the  ground  from  under  them.  Somehow,  they 
never  knew  just  how,  they  came  to  a  place  where, 


THE  EANGEE'S  CABIN  249 

in  the  darkness,  Jean  involuntarily  stretched  forth 
her  hand,  and  as  she  did  so,  a  cry  of  joy  escaped 
her  lips,  "  This  is  the  post — this  is  the  end  of  the 
cable — here  is  the  rope — this  is  the  foot  bridge !  " 

Quinn  felt  his  way  through  the  darkness,  slip- 
ping one  hand  along  the  cable  and  holding  Jean 
with  the  other.  The  bridge  swayed  in  the  gale. 
Beneath  them  roared  the  waters;  above  them  was 
the  gloom  and  terror  of  the  storm;  and  around 
them  the  pelting  rain  that  drenched  them.  At 
times  it  seemed  to  them  that  the  bridge  would 
surely  snap  as  it  was  lifted  by  the  storm,  then  as 
suddenly  thrown  down  again.  Thus,  they  strug- 
gled on  until  they  reached  the  opposite  side,  and 
crawled  through  mud  and  rain,  up  and  on  to  the 
platform  of  the  cabin.  It  seemed  an  age  before 
the  lock  yielded  and  the  door  opened,  but  Quinn 
finally  succeeded  in  turning  it  back,  and  as  he 
pushed  Jean  through  the  door  and  closed  it,  the 
thunders  crashed  again,  the  lightning  flared,  and 
the  rain  beat  on  the  sounding  door  behind  them. 

For  a  moment  they  stood  within  the  cabin  wait- 
ing until  their  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  dark- 
ness. 

"  You  are  trembling,"  Quinn  said,  with  his  arm 
about  her. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied.  "  I  am  wet  and  cold,  as 
you  are,  but  I'm  not  afraid.  I  was  afraid  on  the 
bridge;  and  I  thought  of  the  Norman,  but  with 
you,  I  was  happy." 


260  VINDICATION  OF  BOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

A  small  stock  of  provisions  is  a  part  of  the 
equipment  of  a  ranger's  cabin,  also  fuel  and  cloth- 
ing for  just  such  emergencies.  Flood  and  fire 
must  be  met,  fought  and  overcome.  In  the  fire- 
place, therefore,  kindling  and  logs  were  in  readi- 
ness, and  when  Ouinn  struck  a  match  and  the 
cones  began  to  burn,  as  they  crackled  and  snapped, 
the  flames  glared  and  glowed  around  the  logs, 
and  presently  a  sense  of  comfort  pervaded  the 
place. 

Quinn  put  Jean  in  a  chair,  into  which  he  had 
thrown  a  skin,  and  as  he  drew  it  before  the  fire- 
place, for  the  moment  the  lover  vanished  in  the 
physician,  and  he  wrapped  a  blanket  about  her 
shoulders.  "  Breathe  deeply,"  he  said,  as  he 
knelt  before  her  and  unlaced  her  boots. 

As  they  sat  there  steaming,  and  steam  they  did, 
before  the  kindly  fire,  they  laughed  and  talked  far 
into  the  night. 

"  This  makes  me  think  of  the  monastery,"  said 
Ouinn  at  one  time,  after  a  pause.  "  In  the 
shadows,  the  old  pictures  form  again.  Sometime 
I  am  going  to  tell  you  all  about  my  monastery 
man.  It  is  a  story  of  love  and  banishment  and 
troubled  times,  and  a  man  unafraid — all  of  the 
elements  of  a  great  tragedy.  But  I  don't  want  to 
talk  about  him  now.  Saints  are  interesting,  but 
they  are  poor  substitutes  for  a  girl,"  and  Ouinn 
again  kissed  her  tenderly. 

"  Love,  banishment,  a  troubled  time,  and  a  brave 


THE  KANGEK'S  CABIN  251 

man,"  mused  Jean,  as  her  mood  changed.  "  I 
wonder  if  you  know  what  that  means." 

"  I  think  I  do,"  Quinn  replied,  "  but  what  I  want 
to  know  now  is,  what  you  thought  about  while  I 
was  gone." 

"  Oh,  the  solace  for  a  broken  heart  is  occupa- 
tion," said  Jean.  "  The  nuns  find  peace  in  their 
ministries.  Your  monastery  man  found  his  in  his 
studies.  Mine  came  in  music  at  first.  Through  it, 
I  understood  my  own  heart,  all  hearts.  Always,  a 
great  tenderness  filled  me,  for  when  I  sang,  I  sang 
to  you,  and  I  was  comforted,  not  by  the  applause 
of  the  audience,  but  by  the  great  assurance  that 
you  loved  me.  That  gave  me  strength;  but  for 
that — I  should  have  died. 

"  You  had  gone  down  bravely  into  the  depths 
of  the  sea,"  she  continued,  presently,  "  refusing  to 
abandon  the  ship,  they  said,  but  somehow  I  was 
not  alone.  I  lived  as  though  you  were  near,  with 
your  hand  in  mine."  Jean's  eyes  were  dark  with 
tears.  "  I  never  saw  a  splendid  dawn,  a  sunset — 
I  was  never  thrilled,  I  never  sensed  the  fragrance 
of  a  flower  but  I  seemed  to  share  them  all  with 
you. 

"  So  I  lived,  seeking  always  to  find  solace  by 
blessing  and  inspiring  others.  But  I  suffered,  no 
one  will  ever  know  how  much,  and  I  battled — God 
only  knows  how  hard." 

As  Quinn  listened,  and  looked  at  the  beloved, 
trusting  girl  beside  him,  he  saw  things  in  a  new 


252   VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CBEIGHTON 

light.  Jean  had  put  into  the  days  of  their  separa- 
tion a  devotion  that  thrilled  him.  He  had  under- 
gone physical  suffering  while  adrift  on  the  raft. 
It  was  not  physical  suffering  that  Jean  had  under- 
gone— it  was  the  heart  of  her. 

And  then,  looking  into  Ouinn' s  eyes,  Jean  said, 
after  a  long  pause,  "  I  shall  never  forget  Aunt 
Miriam.  At  the  last  she  saved  me  from  despair 
and  madness.  She  took  me  to  her  heart  and  loved 
me.  I  remember  how  one  day  as  we  were  talking 
about  you,  she  said,  '  Jean,  you  ought  to  be  thank- 
ful.' '  Thankful !'  I  cried.  'Aunt  Miriam,  don't 
you  understand  I've  lost  everything?  Quinn's 
gone ! '  '  Yes,  I  know,'  she  replied,  *  I  know  he's 
gone,  but  how !  You  didn't  lose  your  man  in  any 
vulgar  way.'  Then  she  opened  the  Bible  and  read 
— '  He  that  dwelleth  in  the  secret  place  of  the 
Most  High  shall  abide  under  the  shadow  of  the 
Almighty.'  '  He  shall  give  His  angels  charge  con- 
cerning thee.'  *  He  shall  keep  thee  in  all  thy 
ways.'  '  Don't  try  to  figure  it  out,'  she  said ;  '  just 
take  it  as  it  is,  and  it  will  prove  itself  to  you.  You 
have  lost  a  hero — and  gained  his  memory.' ' 

Ouinn  became  thoughtful.  Jean  had  come  into 
a  sense  of  religious  trust  in  a  woman's  tender  emo- 
tional way.  It  came  as  a  challenge  to  him.  If 
God  did  that  for  Jean,  Ouinn  was  bound  to  be 
grateful.  Was  he  in  a  frame  of  mind  duly  to  ap- 
preciate this?  To  Quinn,  the  experience  of  the 
race  was  the  guide  of  man.  Then  it  occurred  to 


THE  BANGER'S  CABIN  253 

him  that  if  this  were  true,  then  Jean's  experience 
had  to  be  reckoned  with,  and  there  flashed  upon 
him  Wordsworth's  words — "  Trailing  clouds  of 
glory  do  we  come  from  God,  who  is  our  home." 
And  the  conviction  seized  him  that  life  is  not  so 
very  different  from  what  it  has  been  since  the  be- 
ginning of  history. 

As  they  sat  in  silence  before  the  fire,  Quinn 
found  himself  comparing  the  triangle  which  his 
life  and  the  monk's  and  Jean's  presented.  The 
monastery  man  was  concerned  with  the  meaning 
of  existence;  Quinn  with  the  means  of  existence; 
Jean  with  the  heart  of  it.  The  monastery  man 
wanted  to  understand;  Quinn  wanted  to  experi- 
ment; Jean  trusted.  Quinn's  world  was  the  nat- 
ural world;  the  monastery  man  had  a  world  ex- 
ternal to  mankind;  Jean's  was  the  world  within. 
The  monastery  man  sought  a  comprehension  of 
truth;  Quinn  possessed  a  keen  scent  for  it;  Jean 
lived  by  it.  Quinn  sought  the  laws  of  moral  health 
just  as  he  had  sought  the  laws  of  physical  being; 
the  monastery  man  accepted  the  ascetic  ideal ;  Jean 
was  the  embodiment  of  the  spirit  that  is  back  of 
all  laws  and  expresses  itself  in  every  form  of  good- 
ness. The  monastery  man  sought  a  plan;  Quinn 
wanted  facts ;  Jean  was  a  pulsing  heart.  The  mon- 
astery man  dealt  with  causes ;  Quinn  with  effects ; 
Jean  with  life.  The  monastery  man  defended  the 
old;  Quinn  the  new;  Jean  the  eternal  order.  The 
monastery  man  thought  of  the  sacred;  Quinn  of 


254  VINDICATION  OF  EGBERT  CEEIGHTON 

the  secular;  Jean  of  the  abiding.  To  the  monas- 
tery man,  God  was  remote;  to  Quinn,  God  was 
the  substance  of  life;  to  Jean,  He  was  a  comrade 
in  the  struggle.  The  monastery  man  believed  in 
a  divided  world;  Quinn  held  that  the  universe  is 
a  unit ;  Jean  took  it  to  her  heart. 

As  Quinn  made  the  comparisons,  he  found  him- 
self taking  Jean's  position.  Aunt  Miriam,  in  her 
simple  way,  had  been  a  true  interpreter;  she  had 
helped  Jean  to  realize  that  it  was  God  with  Whom 
she  was  dealing  when,  in  the  hour  of  her  despair,  a 
deep  peace  came  to  her.  Such  heroic  endurance 
could  only  be  inspired  by  the  assurance  of  God's 
nearness.  This  conscious  acceptance  of  the  mean- 
ing of  life  brought  a  response  so  satisfying  that  it 
could  only  come  from  the  God  of  all  comfort  and 
grace.  Ouinn's  moral  sense  led  him  to  this  con- 
clusion. He  knew  what  Jean  thought ;  he  felt  that 
she  was  right,  and  he  found  himself  taking  the 
road  with  her.  As  to  the  future,  there  was  no 
doubt  in  his  mind.  He  was  Jean's  man!  With 
her  to  love  him,  he  would  succeed.  They  would 
be  happy.  Love  and  progress  would  go  hand  in 
hand  with  them. 

"  Jean,  do  you  remember  the  first  time  we 
walked  along  the  trail  out  to  Inspiration  Point?  " 
he  said.  "  Do  you  recall  the  winding  path  with 
the  pine  trees  and  the  tangled  undergrowth,  the 
moccasin  flower  with  the  crimson  in  its  heart? 
Do  you  remember  the  squirrels  that  scampered 


THE  BARGEE'S  CABIN  255 

across  the  path,  and  the  birds  that  sang?  I  can 
still  smell  the  bay  trees,  and  feel  the  mountain  air. 
And  Jean,  do  you  recall  the  fine  intimate  joy  of  it 
all?  That  joy  has  never  left  me.  The  strange, 
the  tragic,  have  never  disturbed  it.  Nothing 
frightened  me  because  I  knew  I  could  always  touch 
one  hand  in  love,  that  there  was  always  one  voice 
that  spoke  in  loyalty." 

Jean's  head  was  against  his  shoulder. 

"  Listen  to  the  storm,"  she  said.  "  How  fine  the 
wind  is !  I  love  it !  It  is  so  defiant,  so  sure !  " 
and  they  listened  in  silence,  as  the  wind  made  the 
cabin  tremble,  and  shivered  through  the  trees, 
with  a  voice  and  a  meaning  that  brought  a  message 
to  both  of  their  hearts. 

Quinn  replenished  the  fire;  then  as  he  resumed 
his  place,  Jean  said,  "  Tell  me  more  about  your 
monastery  man." 

"  I  want  to,"  Quinn  replied.  "  I  remember  how 
I  sat  with  him  and  we  talked  as  intimately  as  you 
and  I.  He  told  me  his  story:  'All  men  need  a 
companion,  a  congenial  soul/  he  said,  '  a  trusted 
friend  in  whose  presence  they  can  shake  out  their 
hearts/  He  told  me  how,  as  a  young  man,  he  had 
fallen  in  love.  How  happy  they  were !  Then  be- 
cause his  brother  had  gone  wrong,  her  family  for- 
bade the  marriage.  He  had  gone  West,  he  said, 
to  straighten  things  out,  but  all  to  no  purpose.  As 
I  recall  the  story,  it's  amazing  how  it  parallels  with 
what  we  know  of  Creighton,  and  as  I  remember 


256  VINDICATION  OF  BOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

it  now,  the  monk  looks  enough  like  Creighton  to 
be  his  double — same  eyes,  same  voice ;  but  then  all 
men  who  live  on  a  high  plane  bear  a  certain  re- 
semblance." 

Thus  Quinn  went  over  again  the  story  of  the 
going  down  of  the  Norman,  the  loss  of  the  letter 
that  held  the  secret  of  his  mission,  the  monastery, 
the  manuscripts,  the  monk's  fortitude. 

"  He  seems  to  live  with  me.  The  stream  of  his 
life  overflows  into  mine.  Such  men  live  by  virtue 
of  the  power  of  their  goodness.  If,  as  he  believed, 
we  have  an  immortality,  we  certainly  have  one 
here.  His  cry,  wrung  from  lips  of  pain,  echoes  in 
my  mind  to-day  as  clearly  as  when  he  spoke  to  me. 
His  love,  achievements,  character  live  in  my  heart 
and  will  live.  If  matter  and  force  are  indestruc- 
tible, truth  and  goodness,  embodied  in  a  life  like 
the  monk's,  shine  in  widening  circles  of  influ- 
ence. 

"  You've  got  to  reach  beneath  the  surface," 
Quinn  concluded,  "  to  get  the  real  facts  of  a  life 
like  his.  That  old  monk's  soul  was  smouldering, 
but  smothered  as  he  was,  he  never  died.  That  is 
what  impressed  me.  *  There  may  be  people  who 
dream  of  life  as  tranquil,  with  a  sky  forever  blue/ 
he  said  one  day,  '  but  you  and  I  know  better.  Life 
isn't  tranquil,  but  it  may  be  serene ;  it  is  often  wild, 
but  we  can  make  it  joyous  through  fellowship.' ' 

Thus  the  two  lovers  talked  until  they  saw  the 
first  gray  streaks  of  the  morning,  and  presently 


THE  RANGER'S  CABIN  257 

they  beheld  the  torch  bearers  of  the  new  day  skirt- 
ing the  hills  and  lighting  up  the  mountain  range 
with  dawn.  The  night  was  past!  Day  was  at 
hand! 


XX 

THE  VINDICATION 

DAY  and  night,  throughout  the  two  weeks 
of  the  storm,  Creighton,  Duke  and  Sam 
were  with  the  men  inspecting  the  retain- 
ing walls,  looking  over  the  check  dams  and  care- 
fully scrutinizing  every  detail  of  the  work.  On 
the  crest  of  the  storm,  torrents  of  water  came 
down  the  mountainside  sweeping  everything  be- 
fore it.  Any  opening  that  might  be  made  by  the 
silver  chisel  of  the  waters  would  have  resulted  in 
stampede.  But  in  every  department,  the  work 
stood  the  test,  and  at  last  the  strain  of  anxiety  gave 
way  to  confidence.  Sam  and  Swen  had  awaited 
this  result  with  exceptional  eagerness.  They  were 
interested  in  the  work  and  they  were  anxious  about 
the  outcome,  but  another  matter  held  their 
thoughts  with  even  greater  tension.  A  week  be- 
fore the  storm,  Creighton  had  given  them  leave  of 
absence  to  go  across  the  range.  They  wanted  to 
get  away  for  a  week  or  two,  they  had  said,  for  a 
jaunt.  Then  the  rains  came  and  it  had  not  been 
possible  for  them  to  go.  Now,  however,  they 
were  on  the  road.  They  had  left  the  camp  rather 


THE  VINDICATION  259 

hurriedly,  had  crossed  the  range  and  spent  some 
time  with  the  old  prospector,  mentioned  hereto- 
fore. 

"Yes,"  the  prospector  replied  in  answer  to 
Sam's  inquiry.  "  Two  horses  went  over  the  trail 
a  few  days  ago — one  white,  the  other  a  dark 
brown.  One  of  the  horses  was  smooth  shod," 
added  the  old  man,  as  they  left  him,  disappointed 
that  they  had  apparently  no  time  to  sit  and  talk. 

But  over  a  week  had  elapsed  since  Sam  and 
Swen  had  had  the  conference  with  the  prospector. 
They  were  days  of  relentless  searching.  Finally 
high  noon  found  them  sitting  by  the  side  of  the 
trail. 

"  Dis  ban  it  by  de  paper,"  said  Swen,  waving 
some  directions  in  his  hand,  "  an  dis  ban  it  by  de 
road.  Ay  tank  it  sidestep  here  quick." 

"  We  are  on  the  right  trail  and  this  is  the  place, 
but  the  clue  pinches  out,  as  you  say,"  Sam  replied. 
"  But  that  is  just  the  way  it  should  do,"  he  added. 
"If  it  was  plain  as  day,  everybody  would  see  it. 
I  think  I  can  find  the  opening  we  are  after,"  and 
so  saying,  he  turned  aside  into  the  dense  wood, 
working  his  way  through  the  tangled  brush,  push- 
ing on  into  the  deep,  thick,  gnarled,  twisted  un- 
derbrush, that  covered  the  rocks  and  boulders  over 
which  the  men  stumbled  as  they  went  forward  in 
silence.  Both  men  were  keen  observers  and  Sam's 
trained  eye  told  him  that,  whereas  they  were  off 
the  beaten  trail,  nevertheless,  the  branches  of  the 


260  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CREIGHTON 

bushes  showed  that  they  had  been  parted  only  re- 
cently by  some  one  who  had  worked  his  way 
through  them.  They  now  came  to  a  place  where 
the  underbrush  was  a  solid  mass  of  growth.  Swen 
had  evidently  concluded  that  it  could  not  be  pene- 
trated and  was  on  the  point  of  turning  away,  but 
Sam  motioned  him  to  remain,  and  at  the  same  time 
he  proceeded  to  separate  the  bushes  and,  as  best 
he  could,  elbow  his  way  between  them.  Swen  fol- 
lowed him  and  the  two  presently  found  themselves 
in  front  of  the  door  of  a  shack  hidden  by  the 
shrubbery  that  grew  around  and  over  it. 

Sam  knocked,  and  waited  for  a  reply.  In  a 
moment  the  door  opened  cautiously  and  an  Indian 
woman  stood  before  them.  As  the  men  entered 
the  room,  and  the  light  filtered  in  after  them,  they 
saw  a  man  lying  on  a  cot.  He  stirred  at  the  sound 
of  their  coming,  and  engaged  in  a  vain  attempt  to 
open  his  eyes.  His  hair  and  beard,  streaked  with 
gray,  were  long  and  unkempt.  His  blackened  lips 
moved  in  an  effort  to  speak.  He  seemed  to  be 
trying  to  relieve  his  mind,  to  rid  himself  of  a  bur- 
den which  he  could  no  longer  bear. 

"  Are  you  Fleck  ?  "  Sam  asked. 

But  there  was  no  reply.  The  man  lay  in  silence, 
his  breathing  laboured,  beads  of  perspiration  on 
his  forehead.  He  looked  like  a  lean  old  wolf.  It 
was  a  terrifying  picture! 

While  Sam  and  Swen  were  looking  at  the  man, 
the  squaw  was  fussing  in  the  corner,  at  the  foot 


THE  VINDICATION  261 

of  the  cot.  She  now  drew  forth  an  envelope  from 
a  box  and  gave  it  to  Sam.  "  Him  say — give  you," 
she  stammered,  pointing  to  the  man  on  the  cot, 
and  trembling,  probably  under  fear  of  his  threats. 
Possibly  he  had  persuaded  the  poor  thing  to  join 
him  to  help  him  to  escape  detection,  and  look  after 
him  in  his  degradation.  For  her  reward,  he  had 
cursed  her,  likely,  threatening  her  life  if  she  dared 
to  disobey  his  orders.  He  must  have  passed 
through  delirium,  raving  in  the  madness  of  final 
sickness,  and  was  now  settling  into  coma,  when 
Sam  and  Swen  entered  the  shack.  As  the  squaw 
thrust  the  envelope  into  Sam's  hand,  he  looked  at 
Fleck,  then  at  Swen,  and  in  disgust,  he  muttered, 
"  It's  him — and  a  squaw  man."  Then  putting  the 
envelope  in  the  pocket  of  his  blouse,  he  motioned 
Swen  to  follow,  and  they  went  out  of  the  room, 
closed  the  door,  worked  their  way  through  the  un- 
derbrush, back  to  the  point  at  which  they  had  left 
the  trail. 

For  a  long  time  the  men  sat  in  silence,  ponder- 
ing the  spectacle  they  had  witnessed. 

"  Dis  ban  bad  bizness,"  Swen  said  at  length. 
"  Ay  ain't  'fraid  to  die  if  yu  go  right,  but  dis  man 
ain't  make  gude  end,"  and  a  sense  of  depression 
descended  on  them. 

"  I  guess  you're  right,  Swen,"  Sam  replied.  "  I 
don't  know  all  that  was  in  his  mind,  but  I  have  a 
guess.  He's  getting  his !  I  thought  I  might  need 
your  fists.  But  he  couldn't  travel.  I'm  glad  you 


262  VINDICATION  OF  BOBEBT  CBEIGHTON 

came — I  needed  a  witness.  Now,  we'll  clean  this 
thing  up,  quick,  and  go  down  to  the  city  for  the 
Judge." 

It  was  the  day  before  Christmas  when  Sam  and 
Swen  returned  to  the  camp.  They  were  changed 
men.  A  new  light  illuminated  their  faces.  A  new 
joy  rilled  their  hearts.  "  Dis  ban  a  Merrie  Christ- 
mas," Swen  said,  as  they  drew  near  the  office. 
But  they  found  the  office  empty,  and  for  the  first 
time  it  dawned  upon  them  that  Christmas  was  at 
hand,  and  that  Creighton  must  be  out  about  the 
preparations  for  some  celebration. 

"  Vat  shol  ve  du  ?  "  Swen  asked,  rather  crest- 
fallen. 

"  Find  him,"  was  Sam's  reply. 

"  He  ban  hard  man  tu  find." 

"  We'll  get  him,"  said  Sam. 

The  watchman  at  the  powder  house  told  them 
he  had  seen  Creighton  returning  from  the  spillway 
of  the  big  dam.  He  had  stopped  at  the  office  for 
an  hour  or  so,  he  said,  but  where  he  was  now,  he 
did  not  know. 

They  found  him  presently,  crossing  the  dam — 
he  was  visible  in  the  distance,  plainly  seen  in 
the  rare  light  of  that  altitude,  but  half  an  hour 
away. 

A  blue  haze  was  creeping  into  the  recess  of  the 
mountain,  a  glow  of  pink  enveloped  the  sky;  the 
sun  was  winding  a  many  coloured  scarf  around 
the  peaks  that  were  covered  with  snow;  the  cres- 


THE  VINDICATION  263 

cent  of  the  moon  silvered  in  the  distance,  and,  one 
by  one,  the  stars  began  to  shine. 

Swen  knew  that  the  country  was  familiar  to 
Creighton.  Years  ago,  Creighton  had  made  the 
surveys  for  the  railroads.  After  the  work  was 
done  and  the  entries  made,  requests  for  conces- 
sions were  sent  to  Washington — false  entries.  On 
these  entries,  concessions  were  granted.  Of  these 
forgeries,  Creighton  knew  nothing.  The  reports 
had  been  tampered  with,  without  his  knowledge. 
When  the  Government  finally  made  investigations, 
Creighton  was  arrested,  and  because  his  name  was 
on  the  report,  he  was  railroaded  into  the  pen  by  the 
scoundrels  who  had  thrown  him  down  to  save 
themselves. 

"A  term  in  prison  isn't  an  excursion,"  Creigh- 
ton was  saying,  talking  to  himself.  "  The  white 
space — the  black  floor — the  green  wall — the  nar- 
row door — the  little  round  peep-hole  at  the  level  of 
a  man's  eye — the  row  of  cells  on  the  other  side  of 
the  corridor — the  bang  of  the  doors — the  darkness 
and  the  silence  in  which  you  smother  and  choke 
and  try  to  stick  it  out !  An  hour  like  that  is  longer 
than  eternity ! " 

Creighton  paused  on  the  bridge  and  looked  up 
at  the  snow  on  the  peaks,  glistening  in  the  star- 
light. The  sight  carried  him  through  the  years  to 
the  time  when,  as  a  boy,  he  had  been  tucked  into 
bed,  and  lay  dreaming  of  the  good  Saint  who  would 
come  down  the  chimney  and  fill  his  stockings! 


264  VINDICATION  OP  EOBEET  CREIGHTON 

He  recalled  the  Christmas  trees!  Christmas  was 
the  gladdest  day  in  the  year !  And  he  remembered 
how,  as  a  young  man,  one  Christmas  eve,  he  lay 
half  sleeping,  and  the  sound  of  the  Christ- 
mas songs  rang  out  upon  the  crisp  night  air  and 
floated  in  upon  his  spirit.  Then  he  drifted  off 
to  sleep  and  dreamed  a  never-to-be-forgotten 
dream ! 

He  seemed  to  be  with  the  people  assembling  in 
a  village  church,  wrapped  warmly,  and  happy  with 
Christmas  joy.  Inside  the  church,  there  was  an 
air  of  secrecy  as  if  a  good  joke  was  to  come  off. 
When  all  had  gathered,  and  were  ready  to  start 
out,  some  one  stepped  to  the  desk  with  a  roll  of 
white  ribbon;  with  deft  fingers,  she  tied  a  bow 
with  many  loops,  and  fastened  it  in  the  corner  of 
the  desk.  Bearing  with  them  the  roll  of  ribbon, 
which  unwound  as  they  proceeded,  they  trooped 
out  and  into  the  sled  that  awaited  them.  On  they 
drove,  the  sleigh  bells  jingling  in  the  crisp  air.  As 
they  stopped  before  the  first  house,  they  began  to 
sing,  "  Oh,  little  town  of  Bethlehem !  " 

In  his  dream,  Creighton  saw  that  when  they  had 
finished  their  song,  they  walked  boldly  up  to  the 
steps  and  entered  the  house.  Flocking  into  the 
living-room,  they  fastened  the  broad  white  ribbon 
over  the  mantelpiece,  securing  it  there  with  a  star. 
Then  they  went  gaily  out  into  the  snow  again, 
bearing  with  them  the  white  roll,  which  ever  un- 
wound as  they  went. 


THE  VINDICATION  266 

At  the  next  house,  they  sang,  "  For  Christ  is 
born  of  Mary."  No  sooner  was  the  verse  finished 
than  they  stormed  the  hearthside,  securing  the  bow 
of  white,  as  before,  with  a  golden  star. 

Then  on  again,  the  laughing  throng  went  to 
the  next  house.  Here  another  carol  rang  out  on 
the  night  air.  Again  the  never  diminishing  ribbon 
was  secured  with  a  golden  star  over  the  hearth  of 
the  home. 

In  his  dream,  Creighton  joined  in  the  songs,  and 
as  they  heralded  their  entrance  into  every  home 
with  a  carol  and  a  verse  of  one  of  the  old  hymns 
of  Christmas,  they  fastened  the  broad  white  rib- 
bon with  a  golden  star.  This  they  did  until  every 
house  in  the  village  had  been  visited,  and  every 
home  adorned;  not  one  was  omitted — none  were 
left  out — none  were  too  proud,  and  none  too 
humble  to  be  looped  together  by  the  white  band 
that  linked  from  house  to  house. 

And  just  as  the  clock  in  the  steeple  pealed  out 
the  stroke  of  midnight,  the  happy  people  trooped 
back  into  the  church  from  which  they  had  started. 
At  the  desk,  the  ribbon,  still  unwinding,  came  to 
an  end!  There  was  just  enough  to  reach  to  the 
bow  where  the  end  was  secured. 

Creighton  had  been  happy  that  Christmas  morn- 
ing, when  at  the  breakfast  table,  he  told  his  mother 
his  dream.  Since  then,  he  had  been  through  much. 
And  now !  Here  he  stood,  a  one  time  convict,  out- 
side the  pale  of  human  love — and  at  Christmas ! 


266  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CBEIGHTON 

So  deeply  was  Creighton  engrossed  in  these 
thoughts,  that  he  started  when  he  saw  Sam  and 
Swen  approaching.  They  had  been  away. 
Creighton  knew  why!  When  they  reached  him, 
there  was  an  awkward  pause.  None  of  them  could 
think  of  anything  to  say.  There  was  an  oppressive 
silence,  then  Sam  suddenly  came  to  himself  and, 
taking  the  letter  from  his  blouse,  presented  it  to 
Creighton.  And  they  withdrew,  without  having 
spoken  a  word ! 

When  the  men  retraced  their  steps,  Creighton 
opened  the  letter.  It  was  growing  dark,  but,  by 
looking  closely,  it  was  still  possible  to  see,  and  he 
had  good  eyes.  As  he  read  the  letter,  his  face  was 
good  to  behold.  At  last  he  held  what  he  had 
longed  for;  Sam  and  Swen — good,  tried,  true, 
loyal  friends  they  were — had  got  it  for  him,  and 
left  him  to  himself!  They  had  no  wish  to  stand 
in  the  reflected  glory  that  shed  its  rays  upon  him. 
Yes,  they  were  real  men — no  parade — no  intru- 
sion; they  had  gone,  leaving  Creighton  to  himself 
with  his  happiness. 

Then  into  the  stillness  of  the  hour,  there  came  a 
subtle  bitterness.  Through  the  years  he  had 
fought  this  battle.  He  remembered  how  when  the 
blow  came  and  the  sentence  was  pronounced  upon 
him,  he  had  offered  to  set  free  the  one  woman  he 
had  loved — his  wife ;  and  he  remembered  how  she 
had  said,  "  Is  it  possible  that  you  do  not  know  me ! 
I  love  you  more  than  I  did  when  you  were  free.  I 


THE  VINDICATION  267 

will  wait.  I  can  work."  Yes,  her  love  and  her 
faith  were  the  things  that  saved  his  reason.  But 
he  remembered  also  how  she  had  hoped  against 
hope,  counting  the  weary  hours,  until  at  last  she 
had  broken  under  the  strain.  The  sleepless  nights, 
the  despair,  the  longing,  were  too  much. 

And  here  was  the  proof  to  the  world  that  her 
love  and  faith  had  not  been  squandered.  But  in 
the  moment  of  exoneration,  she,  whose  opinion 
he  valued  most,  was  gone!  Where  was  the  God 
of  justice!  A  wave  of  rebellion  against  what  had 
been  laid  upon  him  surged  through  his  mind. 
Again  he  lived  through  all  the  long  days  of  bitter- 
ness— and  now — what  was  left !  This — this  thing 
he  held  in  his  hand — what  was  this  relief  com- 
pared to  the  night  of  gloom  through  which  he  had 
come? 

Then  a  wave  of  desire  to  share  the  happiness  of 
his  vindication  with  others — with  the  young  peo- 
ple— came  upon  him.  Out  of  the  bitter  circum- 
stances of  his  past  life,  he  told  himself  to  trust  in 
the  unseen,  for  there  was  nothing  else  to  do.  He 
remembered  how  one  of  the  men,  at  the  camp 
forum,  had  said  that  the  mighty  Kant  had  spent 
his  life  in  trying  to  prove  that  God  did  not  exist, 
and  at  the  end,  in  spite  of  his  life's  work,  he  said, 
"  I  do  believe."  And  Creighton  believed !  And 
then  the  sense  of  Fatherhood  that  ever  claims  its 
own,  claimed  him.  The  days  of  joy  in  his  own 
life  had  gone!  But  there  was  Jean!  In  her  hap- 


268  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CBEIGHTON 

piness  and  Quinn's,  he  might  taste  the  happiness 
of  others. 

Then  he  thought  of  Beth's  father  who  had  spent 
a  fortune  trying  to  right  the  wrong  done  to  his 
friend.  So  long  as  he  lived,  he  never  gave  up  the 
fight.  It  was  he  who  had  left  instructions  to  send 
Quinn  to  Patmos  with  the  letter.  The  letter  had 
been  lost;  no  one  would  ever  know  its  contents, 
but  Creighton  knew  its  bearings  on  himself. 

Thus,  unconsciously,  he  found  himself  turning 
to  the  cabin.  He  had  not  gone  far  before  he  met 
Quinn  and  his  dog. 

"  We're  out  in  search  of  you,"  Quinn  said. 
"  They  sent  me  to  bring  you  to  the  cabin  to  spend 
Christmas  night." 

"  Thanks !  "  said  Creighton.  "  I'll  be  glad  to  go 
with  you,  but  if  you  don't  mind,  let's  walk  around 
to  the  other  side  of  the  cabin.  I  want  to  talk  to 
you.  I've  wanted  a  chance  to  talk  with  you  alone 
ever  since  you  came  back.  There  are  some  things 
I  think  you  ought  to  know. 

"  You  remember  the  day  I  met  you  in  the 
Arroyo!  I  was  desperate.  I  had  reached  the 
limit.  But  that  wasn't  my  first  trip  through  the 
Arroyo.  Of  course  you  know  that  your  father 
was  the  chief  ranger  of  these  mountains.  Many's 
the  time  we  had  eaten  together  in  the  same  spot 
where  I  met  you." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  knew  who  I  was !  " 
Quinn  asked. 


THE  VINDICATION  269 

"  No,  I  was  not  sure,  and  when  I  found  out, 
you  had  gone  on  your  mission.  Now  you're  back, 
thinking  you  have  failed." 

Ouinn  looked  at  Creighton  with  searching 
scrutiny.  "  May  I  ask  you  a  question  ?  "  he  said. 
"  When  I  was  stranded  on  Patmos,  I  met  the  man 
I  told  you  about.  He  gave  me  some  manuscripts, 
asking  me  to  have  them  printed.  He  also  asked 
me  to  look  up  a  brother.  He  told  me  the  story  of 
the  brother's  life,  and  he  hinted,  as  you  have  just 
done,  that  my  mission  had  not  failed.  The  story 
he  told  me  dovetails  marvellously  into  your  life, 
as  I  know  it,  and  when  I  close  my  eyes  and  listen 
to  your  voice,  I  imagine  it  is  the  monastery  man 
speaking ! " 

Before  Quinn  could  proceed,  Creighton  inter- 
posed: "When  I  was  a  boy,  I  had  three  chums. 
We  four  were  always  together.  When  we  grew 
to  be  young  men,  three  of  us  came  West — one 
stayed  East,  my  brother;  he  had  been  disap- 
pointed. Your  father  was  one  of  the  men  who 
came  West  with  me.  Beth's  father  was  the  other. 
I  was  thrown  down  by  a  gang — and  sent  up.  Your 
father  died  years  ago.  Beth's  father  fought  for 
me  with  utter  loyalty.  Life  meant  little  to  us 
separated.  Often  he  visited  me  in  the  prison. 
When  he  knew  that  he  was  going  to  die,  he  said, 
*I  don't  want  Beth  and  Jean  to  be  alone.  The 
only  one  left  to  take  the  responsibility  of  their  wel- 
fare is  your  brother.  I  have  arranged  with  the 


270  VINDICATION  OP  BOBEET  CREIGHTON 

trust  company  to  send  Quinn  to  bring  him  back  to 
take  his  part  in  the  world's  work.  When  he  reads 
the  letter,  he  will  come.'  You  see,"  Creighton 
continued,  "  Beth's  father  figured  that  my  being  a 
convict,  Jean  needed  some  one  to  back  her — and 
he  was  right." 

Again  Quinn  sought  to  speak,  but  Creighton 
waved  him  into  silence. 

"  I  know  what  you're  going  to  say,'*  Creighton 
continued.  "  You're  going  to  ask — '  why  haven't 
you  told  this  before  ? '  Man,  there  were  times 
when  I  thought  I  could  no  longer  keep  silent.  I 
remember  one  day  when  you  were  away,  Jean 
came  into  the  office,  and  as  we  talked  together 
about  you,  she  said  that  when  she  talked  to  me,  it 
seemed  to  her  that  she  had  always  known  me, 
that  the  sound  of  my  voice  was  strangely  familiar, 
that  my  eyes  gave  her  a  sense  of  serenity  and 
peace.  I  was  on  the  point  of  speaking  out  then, 
but  just  one  thing  held  me  back;  I  wanted 
this "  and  Creighton  gave  Quinn  the  let- 
ter from  the  Judge,  containing  Fleck's  confes- 
sion. 

There  was  a  profound  silence. 

Then  Creighton  went  on  to  explain  how  it  was 
he  came  into  the  mountains  the  day  he  chanced 
to  meet  Quinn.  With  a  glowing  tribute  to  Quinn's 
father  and  Beth's  on  his  lips,  the  men  drew  near 
the  cabin.  Through  the  south  window,  they  saw 
Aunt  Miriam,  the  embodiment  of  the  spirit  of 


THE  VINDICATION  271 

Christmas,  busy  as  she  was,  dispensing  Christmas 
cheer. 

Looking  again,  they  saw  Duke  and  Beth  light 
the  bayberry  candle — a  new  thing  to  Creighton, 
but  he  remembered  having  seen  one  lately  in  a 
curio  shop,  and  recalled  the  little  card  with  it, 
that  ran: 

"  Burn  this  candle  on  Christmas  Eve — 
It  will  bring  happiness  and  good  fortune." 

But  now  Creighton's  eyes  went  past  the  candle 
to  where,  at  the  piano,  sat  Jean.  Fair  girl — beau- 
tiful in  herself,  and  now  because  she  was  loved 
and  loving — looking  more  than  ever  like  her 
mother,  who  had  died  so  many  years  ago! 

In  his  pocket  was  the  letter.  Yes,  he  was  a  clean 
man.  Now  he  could  speak.  Would  Jean  know 
him  ?  Could  she  remember  ?  Could  he  bring  back 
to  her  the  outlines  of  a  face — his — that  she  had 
seen  so  far  back  in  her  childhood  days? 

Then  he  heard  the  piano.    Jean  was  singing: 

"  Silent  night !     Holy  night ! 

All  is  calm,  all  is  bright. 
Round  yon  virgin  mother  and  Child ! 
Holy  Infant,  so  tender  and  mild, 

Sleep  in  heavenly  peace." 

They  walked  to  the  door — and  knocked. 
Some  one  called  for  them  to  enter,  but  they 
waited  for  them  to  open  the  door.    It  was  yet  in- 


272  VINDICATION  OF  EOBEET  CEEIGHTON 

credible  to  Creighton  that  he  should  leave  the  chill 
of  the  outer  darkness  to  go  into  a  room  firelit, 
sweet  with  a  companionship  that  he  need  no 
longer  hesitate  to  take  a  share  in,  and  to  claim  the 
daughter  his  heart  had  so  long  yearned  for,  to 
call  its  own. 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  Amerita 


A     000127443     0 


